Transitions
by beamirang
Summary: Jim's best laid plans usually had a way of backfiring quite spectacularly.
1. Chapter 1

Long time no post! I'm terribly sorry for the absence. The accident I had the year before last left me with some damage to my wrist that needed another bout of surgery earlier this year. Fingers crossed that is the last one, because I've run out of ways to make casts look cool and exciting.

_Transitions_ takes place between IX and STID. _Genesis_ is currently being revamped to be canon compliant so look for a sparkly new version of that coming your way in the next week or so. (And on that note, I have yet to recover from certain aspects of STID so expect lots of shameless Kirk!whump and protective!crew and happy-families-in-the-making as I attempt to cheer myself up.)

Several of the characters who appear in _Transitions_ are pulled from _TOS_ or _Enterprise. _I'm crossing over a bit with dates here, so technically Hoshi Sato and T'Pol _could_ still be alive in reboot land.

I hope you enjoy, and thank you all for the encouragement and support you have sent my way the last few months.

TRANSITIONS

"Yeoman, do you have a moment?" Alpha shift had ended only minutes ago, but Nyota Uhura had already missed her chance to corner the captain before he shut himself away in his ready room. The Enterprise was undergoing unexpected maintenance at Io Space Station and Kirk had put off reporting in to the Admiralty for almost a day before they finally pinned him down. Uhura had been the one to patch the comm. through before handing over to her relief.

Spock took the Con. for the start of Beta shift. Technically she could ask him, but she was wary of fueling the gossip mill. The request she had put in to attend a conference at Io Symposium was perfectly regulation, but it had been denied for no apparent reason. She didn't feel comfortable asking Spock for fear of being seen to be abusing her relationship with the First Officer.

Kirk, as contrary and contradictory as he was, could always be counted on for honesty. She might not like his reasons for denying her request, but he'd not lie about them.

But with Kirk shut away for the foreseeable future, there was only one person Uhura could turn to. Janice Rand was Kirk's personal Yeoman and as such she knew his schedule, prioritized his paperwork, and had more insight into his eccentric thought process than most on board. A quiet and studious woman, she was also McCoy's not so secret weapon – she had been known to bribe, blackmail and bully Kirk into sleeping, eating, and attending his physicals. Uhura admired Rand as much as she pitied her.

Clutching at a stack of PADDs, Rand turned at Uhura's call. "Can I help you with something, Lieutenant?" She asked politely. Even if they hadn't been vastly different ranks, Uhura doubted she and Rand would have been friends. They respected each other professionally but kept different social circles on the ship. Uhura didn't mind. She had her hands full with the friends she already had.

"I appreciate that you might not have had anything to do with it, but I sent the Captain a request to attend a xenolinguistics conference this evening. He's usually the one pressing us to pursue our professional development but he denied it. I was curious as to the reasons."

Rand frowned. "I'm sorry Lieutenant but I don't know anything about it. I can ask him once he is done with Admiral Archer if you like?"

Fighting her disappointment, Uhura shook her head. "No, that's fine. Thank you. Like I said, I was just curious."

Rand shifted the PADDs in her arms to make them more comfortable but declined Uhura's offer to help her carry them. "I'm sure the captain had his reasons. He usually does. Is it a very important conference?"

Uhura's shoulders sagged. "Hoshi Sato is speaking about the Xindi dialects and how they can help us better understand the way the Delphic Expanse was used to both protect and isolate the Xindus from outside interference."

"I understood about a word of that." Rand said sympathetically. "I'm sorry. Hoshi Sato is rather a big deal though, isn't she?"

Only the reason Uhura had joined Starfleet in the first place. "She is." The conference was the first – and if rumor had it – last that Sato would give since retirement. "Never mind."

"I am sorry." Rand genuinely looked as if she was.

Uhura smiled and shook her head. "Don't be. It's alright. Are you sure you don't need a hand carrying those?"

"I'm sure. Enjoy the rest of your day, Lieutenant." Rand turned and collected another two PADDs to add to her pile before letting herself into Kirk's ready room, regardless of the meeting-taking place inside.

Uhura turned her back to the bridge and headed to her quarters. Since she wasn't going to be doing anything tonight, she figured she'd put to use all the water rations she'd been collecting and take a nice long bath. Kirk handed out extra rations for exemplary work and she had amassed a considerable amount. Combined with the fact that she took sonic showers most days, and there was more than enough for a luxurious evening of bubbles and wine.

Slightly cheered at the thought, she made her way to her port side quarters.

* * *

Uhura had just pulled herself from the bath when her chime sounded. Hastily wrapping her hair up in a towel and shrugging on a robe, she opened the door.

Kirk was the last person she expected to see.

He stood in the entrance to her room, clad in a perfectly pressed grey dress uniform, cap tucked under one arm and his shoes polished enough to reflect the overhead lighting. He really was disarmingly handsome and she gawped foolishly in surprise before regaining her equilibrium and inviting him in.

"Captain. What can I do for you?"

Kirk's back was ramrod straight, something that only happened when he was on display, or nervous. It was a small tell, but one she had quickly learned. She frowned at the uncharacteristic nerves. "Actually Lieutenant, I was wondering if you'd do me the honor of accompanying me to the Io Symposium tonight."

Uhura's jaw dropped. "You're kidding, right?"

Kirk blinked. That clearly hadn't been the answer he expected. "Um, no?"

"You denied my request." Uhura pointed out in frustration.

"You didn't have tickets!" Kirk protested. "What were you going to do, watch from the gallery?"

"Yes, actually."

"That's stupid."

_You're stupid, _she wanted to say. Once again she was reminded of all the reasons she'd wanted to strangle Kirk for when they had been students together. He was impossible.

"Do you have a better solution?" She asked him. He outranked her now. Calling him names was not only below her intelligence, but also a disciplinary offense.

"Yes, actually." Kirk huffed. "I was invited."

"You were invited." She echoed blankly. "To a xenolingusitics conference."

"Is that so hard to believe?" Kirk actually pouted at her. She had to resist the urge to say yes, because she knew how smart Kirk actually was and no, it wasn't really a surprise. It was just… "Look," Kirk said patiently. "Get dressed and meet me in the transporter room in twenty minutes."

"Is that an order, sir?"

"Does it have to be?" Kirk said in frustration. "I'm actually trying to do something nice here."

He sounded so incredibly put out that she bit back on the instinctual retort. Besides, she really did want to see the conference… "Twenty minutes?"

Kirk relaxed and nodded. "I'll see you there." He left, the door closing silently behind him.

Twenty minutes later, Uhura found him waiting in the transporter room. She'd dressed in her own formal uniform, tight, uncomfortable shoes and all. Her hair had been pulled back and braided away from her face to compensate for the dampness that had not fully dried from the bath. The fact that Kirk had been in her quarters while she wore nothing but a robe and towel and no innuendo had been made was something of a milestone for them.

"Lieutenant." Kirk looked relieved to see her. "Glad you made it."

As if she'd had a choice, really. She took her place on the pad next to Kirk. "The conference doesn't start for another two hours." She informed him.

"I know. We're going to the reception. You want to meet Doctor Sato, don't you?"

"Why?" Uhura asked dryly, "You planning on introducing us?"

"Yes, actually." The smirk was back on Kirk's face and all was normal with the universe. "Energize." They dematerialized to Kirk's delighted laugh and what was no doubt a look of complete incredulity on her own face.

* * *

Kirk hadn't been lying. After leading her through an elaborate collection of corridors, Kirk stopped at a reception desk and introduced himself as a guest of Dr Sato. The woman serving didn't so much as blink an eye before handing first Kirk, and then Uhura their passes.

"The reception is being held in the Orchid Garden." She informed them, boredom clear in her voice. She was young and clearly had better ideas of how to spend her evenings than herding groups of scientists and diplomats around. "All the way down and to the left."

Kirk's best smile did nothing to bring any animation to her face. Uhura sniggered at his feigned expression of hurt and herded him down the hall. They passed a large window that looked out onto the domed symposium. Beyond it were two galleries, already filled to capacity. She would have been vying for a place with half the galaxy by the looks of it.

Instead Kirk led her out into a garden strewn with lights and sweet smelling flowers. They weren't the only representatives of Starfleet, and several officers nodded their respects as they passed.

Uhura recognized many of her personal heroes in attendance. Xenolinguists who had shaped and reshaped their understanding of alien dialects and had helped mold her into the person she was today even without ever having met her.

And then the one person she really wanted to see. Doctor Hoshi Sato held court in one of the orchid strewn pagodas. Nearing one hundred and thirty years of age, there was no mistaking her for anyone else.

Uhura felt Kirk's hand on her elbow, gently pulling her forward. What exactly was she supposed to say? Should she even say anything at all? What would Kirk say? Why had she even agreed to this…

Sato looked up from her conversation, her eyes fixing on Uhura and Kirk as they made their way across the garden. She spoke briefly to her companions before walking towards them and folding her arms around Kirk. "My goodness Jimmy, look at you!"

Kirk bent himself almost double to embrace the elderly woman. "Hoshi-san." His smile was one of the rare kind: wide and comprised only of happiness. "Still as beautiful as ever."

Hoshi Sato was a small woman, shorter than Uhura and finely boned. Her pale skin was thin and papery and her hair a gleaming silver. She looked every inch her advanced age, but her dark eyes still gleamed with intelligence and kindness. She thwaped Kirk on one ear and rolled her gaze in Uhura's direction. "You have to put up with this impertinent brat on a daily basis?" she asked Uhura, who swallowed her nerves and nodded.

Kirk clutched at his chest as though wounded. "Hoshi-san, I'm hurt. I thought I was your favorite."

"You were everyone's favorite, Jimmy." Sato said fondly. "You also turned my hair grey. See?" She pointed at the neat crop of hair atop her head.

"Okay, now that's a lie. I have it on good authority that Archer was to blame for that." Kirk was a legacy, Uhura knew as much. His father's father had been in Starfleet, and his mother had come from a line of military officers stretching back to the Eugenics War. But still, the way he spoke to and of some of the greatest figures in Federation history…and he was Sato's favorite? What did that even mean?

"And whose authority was that?" Sato asked, her dark eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Kirk beamed at her. "T'Pol."

Sato cursed in Vulcan and shook her head at Kirk's laughter. "Meddling Vulcan. I hear you have your own now. Sarek's boy?"

"Commander Spock." Kirk nodded eagerly. "He keeps me in line." His expression was far friendlier than Uhura would have expected, especially in the light of some of Kirk and Spock's more recent disagreements.

"Now there's someone I'd like to meet!" Sato chuckled. She reached up and patted Kirk's cheek. "Now then, are you going to introduce me to your Lieutenant or are you just going to stand there looking pretty?"

Kirk actually blushed. "Shit. Sorry. Hoshi-san, I would very much like to introduce you to Nyota Uhura, Head Communications Officer aboard The Enterprise, linguistic genius, and the person who is going to break your record in the field." Uhura gaped at him. Sato chuckled and held out a small hand that Uhura quickly shook. Kirk continued, "Lieutenant, I am honored to introduce Doctor Hoshi Sato, whose long list of achievements you probably know better than I do, but also are unlikely to include her uncanny ability to clean house at poker."

"He's a charmer, isn't he?" Sato smiled, winking up at Kirk who grinned back at her. "Uhura. I've heard that name. You studied under Evat Jaardin at the Academy?"

"Yes ma'am." Uhura nodded. Jaardin had been a ballbreaker, but a brilliant instructor. He had been the one to recommend Nyota to Spock when her grasp of Vulcan began to outgrow his own.

"I thought so. He speaks very highly of you. You are here for the conference?"

"Captain Kirk was kind enough to grant me the leave." Uhura acknowledge, hoping that Kirk could read the appreciation in her expression.

"Yes well, he's not a complete tyrant at least."

"Hey!" Kirk protested, "I'm not any kind of tyrant. I'm positively kitten like." Kirk pouted but his eyes were bright with glee. He looked much younger when he smiled with genuine happiness, and it was clear he idolized Sato.

"He's a menace, and don't you believe otherwise." Sato sighed. She reached up to take Uhura's arm and sent Kirk off for refreshments. The captain laughed good naturedly and asked Uhura what he would bring her before vanishing off into the crowd. "Now then, Jimmy tells me you're something of an expert when it comes to the Romulan dialects. I never really liked them much myself, far too dry…"

Kirk returned half an hour later, a glass of wine for Uhura and a tonic water for Sato. "Now don't scowl at me, you know you're supposed to watch your blood pressure." He said, holding his hands up against the glare Sato fixed on him.

"I liked you much better when you were small enough to put over my knee." Sato shook her head, sipping at the water.

"Didn't everyone?" Kirk laughed.

"I'm sorry," Uhura cut in, her cheeks flushed from the thrill of having clashed intellects with someone whose knowledge far outstripped her own. "But how exactly do you know each other?"

"His batshit crazy mother left him and his brother with me for a few months when they were children." Sato said bluntly.

Kirk rolled his eyes. "What, like she was supposed to take us into the middle of an Orion slave trade? I was eight!"

"Wouldn't have been the first time." Sato said darkly. "You might have your daddy's eyes, Jimmy, but your crazy is all your mother's."

"You've known each other a long time, then?" Uhura broke in again gently, this time to stem the bickering before it became uncontrollable. Kirk really did have the ability to argue with anyone. It was impressive.

"We kept in touch." Kirk shrugged. "I stayed with Hoshi-san for a few months when I got back to earth." He didn't spell it out for her, but from the sudden tightening of Sato's jaw, and the serious way Kirk was not meeting her eyes, Uhura knew at once that he was talking about the months after Tarsus IV.

"You should have stayed longer." Sato poked him in the chest. "Maybe you wouldn't have ended up in jail, hmm?"

"You were in jail?" Uhura asked in shock. She knew Kirk had a criminal record that was no sealed up tighter than an airlock, but jail was considerably more extreme than anything she'd expected.

"Twice." Sato added flatly.

"Once." Kirk protested. "The second time doesn't count."

"They locked you up, Jimmy. It counts."

Kirk rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at Uhura through his lashes. "I'd appreciate you not mentioning this to anyone on board. It's not exactly a secret, but-"

"Of course, Captain." Uhura said, feeling uncharacteristically sympathetic despite having a long held suspicion confirmed.

Sato looked between them, her eyebrows rising. She looked at her wrist and then up at Kirk. "Well I need to start getting prepared. You two had better take your seats. No heckling, Jimmy."

"No ma'am." Kirk saluted cheekily. "Shall we?" he asked Uhura, holding out one arm gallantly.

Uhura stared at it pointedly and moved forward on her own, a small smile hidden from Kirk as he sighed dramatically and jogged to catch up to her. "You wound me."

"You'll live, sir."

"I suppose." Kirk sighed.

They were caught up in the bustle of people moving into the symposium chamber when Kirk's comm chimmed. "Spock. One moment," Kirk caught her arm and led her to a quieter area of the venue so he could hear his First Officer talk. "What's going on?"

Spock's voice sounded as calm as always, but Uhura could pick up on the tension underlying the words he spoke. "Captain. We have reason to believe that-"

Spock's warning as lost as the building exploded around them.

Uhura fell to her knees as shock waves rocked the ground and the walls exploded.

She felt Kirk wrap his arm around her waist, pulling her up and close to his chest as the floor beneath them collapsed entirely, plunging them into the darkness below.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you so much for the warm welcome back! Here's part 2, which mostly consists of me being mean and putting Jim and Uhura in painful, slightly awkward positions that totally require innuendo and snark...or will, eventually.

Enjoy!

* * *

Uhura didn't actually lose consciousness as she and Kirk fell through the concertinaing floor. She wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse. Despite maintaining awareness, she was unable to process much of anything other than the sound, the fear, and of Kirk's arms; strong and surprisingly protective around her. She dimly processed him curling a hand around the back of her head, sheltering her from the shower of shrapnel that rained down on them as they fell.

Their impact with the ground below seemed to take an eternity, yet the suddenness of it came jarring, knocking the breath from her lungs. Dazed and dizzy, she lay where she landed, her heartbeat loud and heavy in her ears.

The silence that followed the explosion echoed around them before screams from a distance slowly filtered their way through her faltering consciousness. In the wake of chaos she found herself turning to Kirk and wondering when he had become her safe harbor. She'd have thought that Spock would have been at the forefront of her thoughts, but while she knew she her lover would always keep her safe, Spock lacked Kirk's single-minded ruthlessness that had somehow become reassuring. She might not always be safe with Kirk, but if the captain was in her corner, she knew they could survive anything.

So the lack of Kirk's authoritative voice was almost as much of a shock to her as the aftershocks of the explosion.

Taking a quick assessment of her condition she accounted only cuts and bruises. Despite the fall, she hadn't injured herself at all on impact.

It was with that thought at the forefront of her mind that she finally took notice of the arms that were still wrapped around her. She shifted as much as she dared, suddenly far more afraid than ever.

Her lack of serious injury made sense when she took stock of Kirk's body below her, his arms holding her tucked into his chest. They weren't quite horizontal, but inclined at a slight angle that left Kirk's head thrown back, his neck bloody and flecked with debris.

For a moment she feared he was dead. Only thin slivers of his blue eyes were visible and his chest barely rose beneath her. Then suddenly he drew in a sharp inhalation, his eyes opening wide and his arms tightening around her so suddenly it drew a gasp from her throat.

Aware that she was still sprawled over her captain as he struggled to draw breath, Uhura tried to wriggle out of his arms but was thwarted by Kirk's own panic and the press of something sharp and hard digging into her side.

"Captain! Sir, Captain!" She tried to call him out of his shock, watching as consciousness came and fled from his eyes. He was struggling valiantly but seemed to be having problems focusing on anything.

Unable to see how badly he was hurt, Uhura could only fear the worst and so reached up, her bloody, dirty hands framing his face and forcing him to focus on her. "Kirk! Kirk, come on now!"

"Uhura?" Kirk's eyes sharpened with focus and he frowned, reaching up to touch a cut on her cheek that she barely even felt. "You're hurt." The speed in which he grabbed a hold of coherency and alertness would have been intimidating if she hadn't seen him woken out of a dead sleep and launching into action thirty seconds later.

"Look who's talking." She wasn't a tearful person by nature, but the relief that swept over her with Jim's return to consciousness left her blinking rapidly against a sting in her eyes.

Now that Kirk had relinquished his hold on her, Uhura tried to move away. She gently rearranged his arms so she could see how badly he was hurt.

She had barely moved a few inches when Kirk shouted in alarm. She was dragged roughly back down against his chest, his arms over her head, and once more the earth moved beneath them.

There was nowhere further to go down, but that didn't stop the rain of debris from above. The tremors lasted less than a minute, but from the sound of it the whole building seemed to come down on top of them.

She shoved roughly at Kirk's hold and tried to protect him with her own arms; furious and scared when he refused to let go. She screamed in his ear, mostly rage and fear, but he stubbornly held on.

Eventually the tremors stopped and the world fell quiet again. Kirk still refused to relax his hold on her for several long minutes and so she could do little more than lie against his chest and listen to the quick, uneven rhythm of his breathing. It sounded wet and shallow and she knew even then that there was something wrong, seriously wrong, with Jim Kirk.

As soon as she was able, she tried to move and felt her chest tighten at the small, hurt sound that escaped Kirk's lips. "I'm sorry." She choked. "I'm sorry."

"Don't." Kirk's voice was thick and echoed as he whispered so close to her ear.

Tentatively, she tried rolling to one side. Her effort was impeded by the weight of what looked like one of the supporting beams that pressed down on the small of her back. It wasn't crushing her to the point of pain, which suggested that its decent had been interrupted somehow, but she could not turn enough to see what, or how, it was resting. It was also impossible to draw in more than the most shallow of breaths as she was pressed even tighter against Kirk.

They were pinned that way. There was barely a hair's breadth between their bodies and for all she knew the entire building was just waiting to bury them both.

"Can…can you slide out?" She asked. If she braced herself, maybe Kirk could wriggle out from beneath her.

"No." Kirk said softly. "Can you?"

She shook her head hopelessly. "Maybe they can beam us out?"

"I think," Kirk's voice was completely wrecked. "that second time…I think it was an earthquake. With the seismic activity it would be too risky. They won't try unless they have no other option."

"Right." The intricacies of transport mechanics and the related physics were beyond her. She knew the basics, as all cadets did, but beyond that she was clueless. There had been one memorable morning right before Gamma shift when Kirk, Scotty and Chekov had spent a good twenty minutes gabbling together like excited children as they discussed transplanetary beaming equations. She and Sulu had been completely in the dark. It was also the first time she had seen Spock look at the captain like he was a particularly interesting science experiment. "And the first time?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

Kirk's expression was grim. "That was an explosion. A sonic blast, by the sound of it." She wouldn't have been surprised if he was right. When it came to the strange and violent things they encountered in the world, Kirk usually knew what they were dealing with. It was impressive, and sad.

"Who in their right mind would bomb a linguistics conference?"

"Terrorist, lunatics, visionaries. Pick one." Kirk laughed and Uhura was horrified to see blood staining his mouth. "I swear your boyfriend has the shittiest timing. One minute earlier…"

Uhura found herself rising to Spock's defense as she frequently did when Kirk and he became embroiled in their intellectual pissing contests. Spock didn't need her in his corner, but it wasn't like the rest of the crew were going to side with him when they could fall behind Kirk the golden hero. "This is not his fault." She snapped.

Kirk instantly looked contrite. "I'm not saying it was." He closed his eyes and took a slow breath that sounded like it hurt. "Fuck me, Bones will never let me off the damn ship after this."

"It's not your fault either." Uhura found herself surprised by how easy it was to attempt to reassure him. "And…thank you."

Kirk looked stunned. "For what?"

She could do nothing more than rest her arms against his and lower her head to his shoulder. "Protecting me."

"I'm your captain, Uhura. Kinda in the job description." He actually sounded insulted. And hurt. She wondered if she was imaging it, or if perhaps an effect of his injuries. Either way, she could not find the words to respond. Her silence clearly worried Kirk, because he spoke again. "Not that I did a great deal of good." He paused, bit his lip, then seemed to find a resolve to continue. "Are you…how bad?"

She looked up in surprise. "I'm fine. A bit bruised but it's nothing."

Pinned by those intense blue eyes, she wondered if anyone had the fortitude to lie to him and was grateful she didn't have to. She returned his gaze with a levelness that made her own resolve strengthen.

Eventually he nodded. "Good. Ok."

A nasty thought began to form in her mind. "Captain –"

"Jim." Kirk corrected. "I can't even think about how many regs we're breaking right now, what with you using me as a pillow and all." He actually grinned at her. It was terrifying. "Calling me captain is just going to freak me out. I half expect Pike to jump out of the walls and read me the riot act."

They weren't breaking any regs at all, and she was sure he knew that. She went along with him regardless. "Jim. You're hurt, aren't you?"

Kirk looked at her levelly. She could see the battle in his eyes and wondered what it would cost him to be honest with her. Men like Jim Kirk did not allow themselves to be vulnerable.

So when he exhaled softly, blood bubbling on his lip, she knew it was bad. "I don't think I'm going anywhere for a while."

Uhura's breath caught in her throat. Suddenly she remembered the sharp press of something hard against her side when she had tried to roll off Kirk before the second tremor.

With fear and nausea rising in her gut, Uhura wiggled one of her arms down until she could press her fingers between their bodies.

For all that he was broad-shouldered, Kirk was shockingly narrow at both the hips and the waist. There wasn't a huge amount of space between them, even with the curve of her own body. Barely half an inch from her side she felt the solid metal spoke of a floor support, bent by the collapse and impact of the ground and angled upright.

Directly through the side of Kirk's chest.

Her breath caught in terror as she understood exactly how perilous their situation was.

She couldn't move to give him the space to draw more than a shallow breath. He could not move at all. Eventually, they would both suffocate.

And if, by some miracle, Uhura was able to squirm free without bringing the entire building down on top of Kirk, there was no way he was going anywhere. From her tentative probing she could feel exactly where the spoke had penetrated Kirk's body and the blood on his lips made a horrifying sense.

If he stayed as he was he would slowly and painfully drown in his own blood.

If Uhura was able to move him, or if they were beamed out, he would bleed out in minutes.

This time the tears were uncontrollable and her voice caught in her throat. "Oh god…Jim."

"Hey," Kirk soothed with increasing difficulty. "It will be ok. Spock will find us and there's no way he'll let me die if it means missing out on a chance to glower disapprovingly at me. And even if he did," Kirk smiled in a broken, reassuring way that made him look terrifyingly young, "Bones will bring me back just to lecture me to death. We'll be fine."

And damn her to hell and back, but she believed him.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

"You know, it figured this would happen." Uhura raised her cheek from Kirk's shoulder and looked up across the planes of his pale face. Her uniform had started to become sticky with his blood and his skin was clammy under her hands.

It had been nearly an hour since the first explosion. An hour in which she'd established the dire predicament that they were in almost as quickly as the knowledge that there would be no quick fix. Attempts to comm. The _Enterprise_ had failed, resulting only in Kirk almost losing consciousness again as she tried to recalibrate his communicator. They were on their own.

To add insult to injury, the building's sprinkler system had kicked in shortly after the second tremor, soaking them both to the bone.

"Why's that?" She asked, trying to dislodge the strands of her hair that clung to the side of his face.

"This was supposed to be a peace offering." Kirk's chest rattled as he laughed. "I always did suck at diplomacy."

For a man who was so effortlessly arrogant, Kirk could be blind to his own achievements. It was perplexing, trying to understand a man who was completely confident in his own ability but not in his worth.

"You're not so bad," Uhura reassured him. "And why exactly did I need a peace offering?" She and Kirk probably could not be classed as friends, but there wasn't anywhere near the level of animosity between them that there once had.

"Since I spent three years hitting on you and I'm now your commanding officer?" Kirk said, frowning. "And wow, I realize that this really wasn't how I wanted to have the whole 'I swear I'm not going to sexually harass you' speech."

Uhura couldn't help the bubble of hysterical laughter that rose up from her gut. "Given that your drunken attempt to get into my pants is what got you dragged into Starfleet in the first place, I think we can probably just accept the fact that you're a lecherous jerk and move on."

She'd meant it as a joke and was mortified when Kirk's expression fell even further. Before she could clarify, he was tripping over his words in his haste to express himself.

"I'm not. Well, I am, but not like that. I wouldn't _ever_ abuse my authority in that way."

Her jaw fell open as she studied the truth of his words on his face. Of course she knew that. She'd never once had a second's doubt. Kirk still flirted with her because he was Kirk and she had started to guess that he genuinely didn't know how to interact with a woman without some form of innuendo. She'd known right from the moment he sat down opposite her on the shuttle out of Iowa, beaten to hell and still looking far more at ease than the rest of her class. Their meeting defined their relationship to some extent, but they had both chosen to continue interacting that way long after Kirk hooked up with Galia and she herself found Spock. It was as much a part of their relationship as Kirk and McCoy's bickering, or the passive aggressive pissing contest he shared with Spock. It didn't actually _mean_ anything more.

She thought Kirk got that, but apparently not. Here he was, bleeding to death with his arms wrapped around her, their bodies forced together in a way that was more intimate than any embrace she could recall sharing with a man she wasn't sleeping with and he was genuinely concerned about taking advantage of her.

The emotions that rolled in her head came and went too quickly to define, but ultimately they settled on one, wholly unexpected sensation. Amusement. "You brought me down to a beautiful symposium to an event I'd have killed to attend and introduced me to my childhood hero before plying me with wine and walking me though a candlelit garden… to assure me you were in no way intending to pursue your former – seriously inappropriate – interactions with me?"

Kirk looked like she'd slapped him with a wet fish. His jaw opened and closed silently in shock and would have been far funnier if his teeth hadn't been stained by blood. "When you put it like that I might have miscalculated."

"You really have never tried to seduce a woman, have you?" Uhura rolled her eyes as Kirk blushed.

"Never really had to."

"That's right. Bat those big blue eyes at us and we fall over ourselves to get to you."

Twin spots of pink colored Kirk's cheeks, making him look almost healthy and not as if he was hemorrhaging beneath her. "I wouldn't go that-"

"Uh huh." Uhura was enjoying herself now. "And what about Gaila? I know for a fact she was obsessed with human courtship rituals."

Kirk's expression fell and his eyes glazed over. "Not with me. Gaila and I…it wasn't like that."

"You mean to tell me you guys weren't…"

"Oh we were." Kirk's head nodded minutely. "Just. We understood each other, I guess."

Uhura knew enough about both of them to know what he meant. Both Kirk and Gaila had been hurt so cruelly in the past, yet they had been the brightest, happiest people in the room. She wondered how much of that was forced.

She wondered if Kirk had loved her former roommate.

She knew without a doubt that Gaila could have loved Kirk.

She was starting to think she might be able to love him as well.

Suddenly all the humor she had felt vanished as quickly as it appeared. She pressed her cheek back to Kirk's shoulder, hating how helpless they were.

They lapsed into silence. Only the shallow, uneven rate of Kirk's breathing kept them company. It wasn't until Kirk's tight grip on her waist started to loosen that she jolted back in concern. "Kir- Jim?"

"Hmm?" Kirk's eyes were barely opening as he tried to focus on her.

"Stay awake."

"I'm awake." Kirk promised tiredly. His eyes closed again. Uhura nudged his thigh with her knee, hating herself for the tight choke of pain that Kirk made as it jarred his body.

"You're not. You have a head injury. I know you've had enough of those to know the drill by now."

"Bones' hypo." Kirk mumbled. "So many hypos."

"That's right. So you should stay awake. Otherwise he'll hypo you forever."

Kirk muttered something very unflattering about McCoy but his lips curled into a smile.

"Will anyway."

"True. Okay, tell me about your time in jail then. What were you there for?"

She knew at once she'd put her foot in her mouth again. Kirk's expression was clear of any emotion and his blue eyes sharpened as they looked down at her. Despite that, she couldn't regret asking, not if it kept Kirk conscious enough to be angry with her.

"Or you could tell me more about Dr Sato?" She suggested. "Do you think she'll be okay?"

Kirk's eyes cleared. "Hoshi-san? She's probably figured out who is behind all this and is lecturing them into an early grave. That woman survived a hostile universe at the side of a man who makes me look high-strung and a Vulcan who could teach Spock a thing or two about dry sarcasm. She'll be fine." If Kirk was worried his expression did not betray him.

Mentions of Spock made her shiver. She missed him.

Uhura had never been a woman who needed a man to do anything, yet just having him beside her made her feel a hundred times stronger than she could ever be alone. "Do you think they'll find us in time?"

"We're talking about Spock here. I'll put credits on him breaking down the walls with his bare fists and those crazy eyebrows of his. He'd never let anything happen to you." Kirk sounded so certain.

"Or you." Uhura said softly, reading the omission in his words.

"Yes, well. There's a lot of paperwork to file if I die."

"You aren't going to die, Jim." She swore.

"Of course not." Kirk agreed easily enough. He was lying to her.

The nonchalant whimsy of his words made something inside her strengthen and solidify. "You are not going to die." She ordered. "We're getting out of here."

"What, now?" Kirk blinked slowly, once again losing the battle with his own consciousness.

"Right now. Man up, Kirk. You're bleeding internally and terrorists just crashed your peace offering."

"They did." Kirk said slowly. "And I guess I am. That's not cool."

"Damn right it isn't." She urged. "So what do you plan on doing about it, _Captain?_"

"You're so bossy." Kirk whined. "And awesome. Have I mentioned that you're awesome recently?"

"Not today." Uhura grinned. "Now then, what's the plan?"

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Somehow I manage to be really mean to Jim in this one without him actually appearing. Oops...

* * *

Spock had just handed control of the conn. over to his Alpha shift relief when the alert came through. Gamma had passed without event, the crew efficient and conscientious as always under his watch. He had noticed a marked absence of frivolous banter during the watches he oversaw in comparison to those in which the captain was present. Kirk actively encouraged his crew to be relaxed and informal. It had been a long point of conflict between them both. As of yet, Spock did not have the data to support either approach and so allowed the two differing styles to continue operating simultaneously.

There was no rhyme or reason that dictated which of his designated allotment of shifts Kirk would oversee on the bridge. He, like Spock, was on call for one duty shift out of three, on the bridge for a second, and at his leisure for the third. Kirk usually took Alpha shift, but he was known to change his routine in order to spend time with various departments around the ship.

Spock encouraged it. Kirk had relatively little experience on a ship operating in deep space, having graduated early and before completing his final assessments in the field. Kirk himself seemed to be aware of this and compensated by spending several hours a day in the bowels of The _Enterprise_, getting to know her from the nacelles up.

Kirk had been on Alpha that day, his relief a vastly experienced officer who by all rights should have been First Officer on his own vassal if not for the fact that his wife had recently been promoted to acting head of Xenobotony. Lt Commander Finney seemed content with his current role in order to stay posted with his spouse.

Kirk had then been on call for the shift following, during which most of his time was divided between conferring with Command in regards to the refits the ship was currently undergoing and helping implement them. Spock had been surprised to learn that Kirk's secondary focus at the Academy had been Engineering.

He had been even more surprised to learn that Kirk had taken so many extra credits that he'd almost accrued enough to graduated with a second minor in computer programming – at least until he recalled the debacle of the Koboyashi Maru.

In order to maintain a pleasant working environment with his superior officer, Spock did not dwell on that encounter more than strictly necessary.

He did not, in fact, spend much time in Kirk's company at all unless business demanded he do so. Past evidence suggested that prolonged exposure to each others company ended poorly for them both.

It was why he had not objected when Kirk had informed him that he was taking Nyota down to the conference on the Io Symposium in order to meet Doctor Hoshi Sato.

Within seconds of being called back on to the bridge, he wished he had.

"You are certain, Lieutenant?" The young man currently sat in Uhura's station nodded seriously, the report from Starfleet clear on the monitor in front of him.

"Aye sir."

"Contact the captain." Spock demanded.

Being pulled back on duty was never pleasant, but arriving on deck to learn that one's captain was currently attending a conference that was under terrorist threat made even Spock's nerves shorten drastically.

Command had sent the missive through Priority One, which demanded the Captain's attention. Spock would have recalled him even if the message had not been of the nature it was.

"Patching now, sir."

"Spock!" Kirk's voice come through loud and with significant background noise. "One moment." Spock stared impatiently at the blank view screen for the few seconds it took Kirk to find a quieter spot. "What's going on?"

"Captain." Spock jumped right to the most relevant information. "We have reason to believe-"

His warning was cut short by the shattering explosion that ripped through the comm. before killing the connection dead. There was a moment of shocked, horrified silence on the bridge before everyone hurled themselves into a flurry of activity.

"Report." Spock demanded with a calm he didn't feel, settling into the chair and surveying the rush of activity that had exploded around them.

"Telemetry sensors picking up violent seismic activity on Io's surface, Commander." Spock was fortunate in that both Chekov and Sulu were on duty as the two men worked seamlessly together.

"Looks like it's induced, Commander." His own cover at the science station informed him. "We're getting reports of an explosion on the surface. Early thoughts are sonic but we're still waiting on ground reports to confirm."

"The Captain isn't responding to attempts to comm. him, sir." The Communication's Officer informed him calmly. "I'll keep trying."

It was protocol to recall the captain in such situations, but Spock felt unusually calm when he reported, "Captain Kirk is currently on the surface attending a conference with Lieutenant Uhura. Make attempts to establish communications with her as well."

"Aye sir."

Spock called Engineering and pulled Scott away from his repairs long enough to demand a shuttle be prepped ready to transport to the surface of the moon. He also demanded all available power be transferred to stabilizing the transporter bay, should it be required.

"Still nothing." Spock was informed after finishing with Scott. "His comm. is unresponsive and I can't get a pin on his location."

"I can't get a pin on _anyone's_ location." Chekov said in frustration. "They are blocking us sir, I don't know how."

Spock knew Chekov would already by working on a solution and left him to it without interruption. It apparently was not his expected behavior, as Sulu and Chekov shared a concerned glance before the doors to the bridge slid open and Doctor McCoy stormed in. "What the hell happened? Jim's vitals just went completely off the charts."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Does the captain know you are keeping illegal tabs on his welfare?"

"Of course he damn well doesn't." McCoy said with his usual explosion of energy and derision. "Damn fool wants privacy he can stop getting himself into these situations. Now what the hell is his excuse this time? He's hemorrhaging like a stuck pig and his adrenaline levels have hit all time highs."

"I can't get through to either of them, sir. Something is blocking our comms."

"Attempt to establish contact with the other vessels in dock." Spock ordered. "I want to know if we are the only ones experiencing issues."

"Aye Commander."

Turning back to McCoy, Spock pushed for more information. "Can you tell me anything else about the captain's condition?"

McCoy ran a hand over his face, a sure signal of distress. "Not without a visual. Can't you just beam them back to the ship?"

Spock shook his head. "The seismic activity currently being experienced on the surface makes it very unwise to do so, especially when we are unable to establish communication with either Captain Kirk or Lieutenant Uhura."

He refused to think of her as Nyota. To do so would remove from him the ability to act rationally, and with Kirk also in danger there was no one else on whom the responsibility could fall.

"Then get a shuttle down there!" McCoy snapped. He waved a PADD full of numbers under Spock's nose, giving him barely enough time to read more than the captain's name and his alarmingly low blood pressure.

"That might be our only-"

"No one is responding to our hails." Comms informed him. "No, wait. Sir, I have incoming on 107.1." The lieutenant looked completely bemused and Spock understood why. 107.1 was a communications channel that had long ago been rendered obsolete by technology and was only ever used to transmit training orders.

"On screen." Spock said, feeling his unease reflected on the doctor's face.

As ordered, an image formed. A single face, blank of all emotion, filled the screen.

"This is Captain Spock of the USS Enterprise. To whom am I speaking?" with Kirk unable to respond to comms for whatever reason, command fell to Spock. The ship could never be without a captain.

"My name is not important." The face, male and young, spoke without inflection or accent. It remained natural. "By now you are aware of the explosion that recently disabled the environmental controls of the Io Space Symposium. You are also aware, I am certain, of the number of Starfleet officers currently in attendance. Seven minutes after the explosion, a team of highly trained operatives stormed the facility, taking all in attendance hostage. You will convey our wishes to your Command or I will execute one civilian and one member of Starfleet on the hour, every hour."

"I will do nothing until I have assurances that the hostages are unharmed." Spock said coolly.

"You will get none. As I am certain your communications officer will tell you, this channel is openly accessible to anyone who has the correct frequency. That frequency is currently being transmitted to news agencies across the system. Unless you wish to see violence before the watershed I recommend you do as I ask."

Spock did not need confirmation that the channel was indeed accessible to those outside Starfleet. It was the main reason it had been put out of use thirty years prior.

"Your wishes are what, exactly?"

The man's expression remained cool and impassive as he spoke. "Earth will leave the Federation. All species not native will leave the atmosphere within forty eight hours and a Delphic Expanse will be created to actively discourage alien advances on our home." The words were delivered as if perfectly reasonable and not both absurd and impossible.

"You've got to be kidding." McCoy spluttered. "You're crazy."

Spock ignored the doctor's interference, his gaze fixed on the man who was currently demanding that his people lose the one safe haven they had left. He stood and clasped his hands behind his back to stop them shaking with rage.

"You realize of course that Starfleet does not negotiate with terrorists." Spock informed him, his voice as void of inflection as was possible.

The man's face suddenly twisted into something ugly and filled with rage. The true image of their adversary. "Now that's not entirely true, is it now?" Spock did not know how to answer. "Pass my message along. I want personal confirmation that Admiral Marcus is making it a reality or I am going to start traumatizing the general public. You have one hour."

The connection was killed and the screen went blank.

Mutters rippled through the gathered officers as they tried to find logic in the man's insane requests.

"Mr Chekov, bring up that man's profile. I want to know who he is."

"Aye sir. I'll run biometrics now." Chekov was already tapping away furiously at his console. A second later, a freeze frame of their unnamed adversary filled the screen.

The man was classically good looking. His hair was golden blond and worn in a tight military cut. His bone structure was symmetrical, a common feature in humans considered attractive, and his eyes were a deep, dark blue. A shade or two lighter and he'd almost look like…

Spock didn't need to reach his hypothesis before McCoy arrived at a similar conclusion. The doctor's face became suddenly very pale as foul language fell from his tongue.

"You know who that man is." He concluded, feeling the first twinges of real concern stir. Overly emotional McCoy might be, but he possessed a solid constitution and very little rattled him.

"It can't be." McCoy breathed. "It's not possible."

"Perhaps you can enlighten us, Doctor?" Spock pushed. They did not have the luxury of time and the rest of the crew were all fixed on them, waiting for answers.

McCoy nodded jerkily before settling his nerves and straightening his back. "I'd need to run a blood test to be one hundred percent certain, but I'll bet my medical license on it, though I have no damn clue how it's possible since he's supposed to be dead."

"Doctor McCoy." Spock felt his patience slip. Kirk would already have scolded his friend and they would already have had their conclusion. Spock lacked that ability to handle the doctor with the most expedient of care.

McCoy stared at the screen in dawning horror. "Sam Kirk. That's George Samuel Kirk. Jim's brother."


	5. Chapter 5

First of all, this is a really short part in which not much happens but Jim still manages to be an idiot. I'm not a personal fan of splitting povs mid-chapter if I can help it, so there will be a couple of parts like this popping up throughout the course of the story – but don't worry! I'll be posting regularly throughout the week (not over weekends) and there's close to 40 parts done and ready to go already so you won't be waiting long for the more interesting stuff.

A lot of you have been asking about Sam – let me just say that I LOVE Sam. I think the potential his character has is fascinating (same with Winona, who may or may not have her own part to play) but I am diverging completely from canon here so I'll ask that the skeptics among you hang with me for a little while as all will become (at least a little) more clear soon.

A few others have asked if this takes place in the same universe as _Genesis_ and _Hanging_ _Wreaths_. The answer is yes, though you will have noticed that _HW_ is not complete. That is because the idea for _Transitions_ emerged halfway through writing _HW_ and Sam's character wouldn't have remained consistent. I'll eventually get around to rewriting it and posting the complete story for you. For the most part, unless stated otherwise, all my stories will take place in the same universe.

And finally (the notes might actually be longer than the chapter by now!) working on a project as large scale as this and _FS_ is great fun but occasionally brain frying, so I'll be posting the odd one shot every now and then as inspiration comes just to let off some steam. If anyone has anything they'd particularly like to see, feel free to make a request!

Anyway! Back to Jim and Uhura who are still stuck under building Jim's brother just dropped on them…

* * *

The string of curses Jim Kirk could pull together was truly impressive. Uhura felt the linguist in herself sit up and nod in respect at the eloquent, not to mention exotic, flow of foul language streaming from Kirk's mouth as he strained to raise the fallen strut long enough for her to squirm out from beneath it.

She's have complimented him on his syntax, but all her energy was focused on hauling her body the few inches she needed to free herself from the debris.

Kirk ended his tirade on an emphatic, "_fuck_!", his shoulders trembling and his whole body seized tight with the strain of the immense weight. That final explosion of emotion and energy was enough to raise the strut a fraction higher and she wriggled furiously until she was free. Crouching by Kirk's side, she wrapped her arms over his head as he lost his grip and the strut fell once again.

There was a brief moment when she feared it would dislodge complete and crush Kirk, but it settled in it's former position, and but for a slight tremble, remained in place.

Now there was the space, Kirk could draw in a deep, shuddering breath and she could clearly see the damage he had taken by protecting her in the fall.

The metal spoke had entered his chest just left of his sternum. It was low enough that she hoped it had only nicked his lung instead of compromising it entirely, but the jagged metal was almost half an inch in diameter.

Kirk had enough room now that he could theoretically raise himself from his position and follow her, but he knew as well as she that the cause of his injury was also the only thing keeping him from bleeding to death.

Kirk panted harshly in her ear as he struggled to regain his composure, and Uhura found herself combing fingers through his sweaty hair.

Eventually he regained his voice. "Ow."

"Yeah." Uhura said sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Kirk said. "It worked. You're out."

"You're not."

"That wasn't the plan." Kirk said firmly. He couldn't meet her eyes from his position, but she had a clear view of his face and could already see the sickly gray tinge to his skin starting to spread.

"There was a plan?"

"Of course." Kirk looked momentarily indignant and she smiled indulgently. "I always have a plan. Sometimes they suck, but they do exist."

"And this plan?" She asked, "Does it suck?"

"I never usually know until after." Kirk admitted. "Let's go with no."

"Optimistic?"

"Or, you know, delirious. Whichever works for you."

The light banter became hard to maintain as she forced herself to stop petting Kirk's hair. She was free, and she had a job to do.

But god, she hated it. "I'll come back, Jim. I promise." She was not going to leave him to die alone. "I'll bring Doctor McCoy back with me."

"Hmm." Kirk agreed absently.

Uhura bit her lip. He was bad. Really bad. It was her job to go in search of help, but the decision did not sit easily in her gut. There had never been a time in her life when her personal desires had conflicted quite so badly with her professional duties and she wondered if this was what her instructors had been trying to convey in their lessons back at the Academy.

Sometimes she could hardly believe that had only been nine months ago. Such a short amount of time, and yet everything in her life had changed.

The man she was potentially leaving to die here alone in the dark was her friend now. She'd never have believed it possible a year ago.

Kirk had started to shiver. The effort he had exerted to help her escape had clearly been the last reserves he had to spare. Already he was declining at a pace far more rapid than he had been before and the panic began to claw at Uhura's throat.

"I'll be back." She tried to put every ounce of conviction she had into those few words, jealous of the way Kirk could so effortlessly reassure those around him when it was she who was supposed to be the master of language.

Kirk didn't respond this time.

Uhura wriggled out of her dress jacket and bundled it into a wad. The thin wool of her undershirt was not enough to stave off the chill but she carefully lifted Kirk's head so she could ease the jacket between him and the ground. He moaned faintly as her fingers pressed against the back of his skull and tears flooded her eyes.

"I'll be back." She said once again, raising to her bruised knees and pausing only to brush her fingers over the side of Kirk's face once more.

She kissed his cheek and struggled to her feet.

It wasn't an appropriate way to leave her commanding officer, but then nothing about Jim Kirk was ever likely to be considered such.

Knowing she was very likely leaving Kirk to his death if she wasn't successful, Uhura gathered her strength and hitched the stiff dress skirt up above her knees so she could begin the difficult climb back up to the surface.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks to everyone for their wonderful feedback and all the follows and favs! I'm thrilled you're enjoying the story so far.

Just a quick warning that this part and many of the parts following will make some references to child abuse – mostly in the form of Tarsus and Frank, but also in regards to how Winona raised her boys. I've never been very explicit with mentions in the past and I probably won't be half as detailed as I am with violence that takes place in the narrative, but be please be aware and proceed with caution.

Also, please note that Transitions takes place between the two movies, roughly three months into their voyage and nine months after Nero and subsequent refits. Kirk and Spock have yet to develop their epic bromance and haven't even had a chess fight yet.

* * *

"What do we know about Captain Kirk's involvement in all this?" Following the demands made by the man they suspected to be Sam Kirk, Spock had opened up a conference call with Command. Present on screen in the Captain's ready room were Admirals Marcus, Pike, Barnett, Kormac and Clarin. As Head of Starfleet Operations Marcus chaired the call. Spock had related the message from Sam Kirk and awaited their instructions. He was surprised by the first words out of Marcus' mouth. Marcus himself seemed unconcerned with the looks leveled at him by both Pike and Barnett.

Spock was suddenly most grateful that McCoy had removed himself from the situation to monitor Jim's vitals. There was no mistaking the real question Marcus was asking, and no true friend of James Kirk would have tolerated it well. "I am afraid I do not understand the question, Admiral." Still, if Spock was going to have this conversation, he refused to do so without absolute clarity.

Marcus' gaze narrowed but Spock had done nothing wrong and so he continued. "The question, Commander, is simply this: do we have to worry about a Starfleet captain jumping ship to a terrorist cell?"

Pike answered before Spock could. "All due respect, Admiral, but Kirk hasn't seen his brother since they were children."

"We also thought the bastard was dead and yet here he is." Marcus snapped. "Do you have an explanation for that?"

Spock knew Pike well enough to see both anger and irritation in his eyes. "No sir. We found what we believed to be his remains on the research station of Deneva approximately two years ago. He was cremated at request of his family."

"By Kirk, you mean." Marcus clarified. "So he could have helped his brother stage his own death."

"Unlikely," Barnett put in, "since he was in the middle of his Field Command Seminar when it happened. Cadets barely get the time to sleep let alone orchestrate sophisticated interplanetary crimes. And I remember when Pike delivered the news. He had no idea."

"Forgive me, Admirals," Spock cut in, "but I was not aware that there was any question of Kirk's allegiances. I was under the impression that his recent actions put him beyond question or reproach since you yourselves promoted him to the rank of Captain."

Marcus glared at him. "You know as well as I do that giving Kirk The _Enterprise_ was just a goddamn publicity stunt and now, for all we know, the most powerful ship in the fleet is under the command of a deranged separationalist!"

"Jim Kirk is loyal to Starfleet." Pike said coldly. Spock wondered if Jim had any idea how much his mentor was willing to risk for him. Marcus was not a man you disagreed with and his displeasure at being questioned was obvious. He sneered at Pike.

"And why's that? Last I checked Starfleet got both his parents killed then personally hand delivered him to Kodos the Executioner for a couple of months of intensive child abuse. You remember that, don't you Chris?"

It was a low and calculated blow, but if it hit Pike didn't let it show. "Be that as it may I do not believe that Jim Kirk has anything to do with what just happened."

"Not yet perhaps," Marcus said grimly, "but I doubt that is going to remain so. Either his brother intends to recruit him, or we're looking at the very real possibility of George Kirk's eldest son murdering the most famous man in the Federation on a publicly accessible channel."

Neither option was optimal. Jim would be a very valuable bargaining chip. Starfleet would never negotiate his release and if his brother really did not intend to recruit him then his death would be assured. The public backlash would be devastating for everyone.

"If I may, Admirals?" Spock waited for a lull in conversation then reminded them of his presence once again. "I too must agree with Admiral Pike. I have been serving alongside James Kirk for three months now and can say with absolute certainty that he does not possess the characteristics necessary to have played any part in today's events."

"Jim's capable of killing if he has to, Commander." Pike said grimly.

Spock nodded, remembering how competent Kirk had been when taking down Nero. "I do not disagree. He does, however, place an extraordinary weight of importance on preserving innocent life. A sonic explosion inevitably results in too many variables to be certain that no civilian bystanders would be injured during detonation. It is logical, therefore, to conclude that the likelihood of Jim Kirk having been involved is less than point three percent."

"Logical." Marcus repeated. "What exactly is logical about any of this? They want to pull Earth out of the Federation? We formed the damn Federation! What possible reason can they have to justify us pulling out now?"

"Xenophobia appears to be the most likely, however I do believe there are more personal reasons behind Sam Kirk's actions. When speaking, he suggested that you, Admiral, might be amenable to negotiation. He implied that you had done so before."

Pike's face wrinkled in confusion. He looked to Barnett and then Marcus. Marcus's expression twisted in anger. More interestingly, Barnett's eyes expressed an emotional that looked much like guilt.

"The boy's clearly insane. We do not and have never negotiated with terrorists." Marcus said firmly. He was clearly done with the conversation. "Find me a way onto the surface, Commander. I want a tactical team assembled and ready to strike in the next twenty minutes."

"Sir, with all due respect, The Enterprise is not equipped with the type of individuals you are requesting." Spock said evenly. While all Command Officers were trained in combat, and all Security personnel were more than experienced enough to deliver the type of service Marcus was requesting, Spock was not comfortable with the notion of sending them down to the surface without a clearer picture of what they would be facing.

"Then find someone who is, Commander, or find yourself and your ship relieved. The USS Potemkin is six hours away if you fancy watching twelve innocent people being murdered."

Spock inclined his head. "I will do as you ask, Admiral."

"Damn right. Kirk's attitude had better not be rubbing off on you, Spock."

"I do not believe it is possible to transfer ones emotional response to pressure via physical contact, Admiral."

Marcus ended the conference call with a singularly ugly expression and Spock briefly wondered if this was what Jim experienced when he so defiantly flouted the rules. It was a most interesting experience.

* * *

Fifteen minutes and the team Marcus had demanded were assembled in the hanger bay, along with most of Kirk's senior command team. McCoy was there, his expression twisted in both anger and fear as he fussed with his PADD. Lieutenant Sulu met Spock's gaze defiantly, "You need a pilot, sir." He said simply, while Mr Scott only stated that he felt the need to stretch his legs.

"Besides, with wee laddie stayin' aboard to counter those infernal sensor blockers y'er gonna need someone who can disable any more sonics they might have down there. No offense, sir, but I didne know you knew much about explosives."

Spock of course knew as much as he needed to know, thought that knowledge had recently expanded to include a footnote reminding him not to let Jim play with anything remotely combustible.

He was about to order final checks when his comm. Chimed with an incoming from a private number.

"Gentlemen." Spock addressed them. "Please complete final checks and board the shuttle to await further briefing. He turned to a more private area of the hanger to address the call.

It was Pike, who launched right in with no introduction. "Look Spock, if we are dealing with Sam Kirk here you cannot, under any circumstances, let Jim make the final decisions."

"He is the captain." Spock reminded Pike, surprised that such an order had been leveled at him.

"And this is going to open up a whole lot of old wounds. He will not be able to think rationally here Spock. We are facing the possibility that we might need to put Sam down and I do not want Jim being the one to have to make that call."

"Captain Kirk would do his duty." Spock said.

"He will. And as his First Officer you are responsible for his welfare. I am telling you now – Marcus isn't entirely wrong. Kirk only ever joined Starfleet because he was drunk enough to think it was a good idea and then too stubborn to wash out when everyone expected him to. I was the one who delivered the news to him when we thought Sam was dead and if Starfleet orders him to kill the only family he has left…" Pike's pause was weighted.

Spock did not need him to continue. "Understood, Admiral. I will do what I can, but as you said, he is most remarkably stubborn."

Pike sighed. "Don't I know it. I'll be back in touch if I hear anything. Take care of yourself. Pike out."

Spock lingered in the privacy of the bay for just a moment longer before returning to the crew.

* * *

"You are certain this is Sam Kirk?" Before he briefed the crew, he pulled McCoy to one side.

McCoy looked up from his PADD, features haggard. "As I can be since I never met the man. Good thing too."

Occasionally drawing information out of the doctor was distressingly tedious. "And did you apprehend any meaning from his suggestion that Starfleet would be open to negotiation?"

"Not really," McCoy admitted. "But I'd imagine he's talking about their mom. She was murdered by terrorists on a job that went ass up. Sam would have been fourteen."

Which put Jim at ten.

"And the captain did not see him brother for several years before his supposed death?" Spock clarified.

"Nah. They got put with their uncle in Iowa and Sam ran away from home a year later. Left his little brother alone with that bastard. That was the last Jim saw of him."

"I see." In truth he did not. He had been estranged from his father for several years until the destruction of Vulcan and his mother's death. That loss of a loved one had brought them closer, not pushed them apart. Surely as children Winona Kirk's sons would have drawn strength from each other?

McCoy turned back to his PADD when it chimed repeatedly. He cursed violently. "We're sitting here like we're watching a damn game of Parrises Squares and Jim's down there damn near bleeding to death." The data Spock was shown had grown significantly more concerning in the last twenty minutes.

"Indeed." He turned to the rest of the crew and was about to address them when his comm was paged from the bridge.

"Spock here."

And with he next words, Spock felt the ground shift beneath his feet. He was momentarily back on Vulcan, watching the planet fall apart around him.

"Commander! It's Lieutenant Uhura."


	7. Chapter 7

Enter Sam, stage left...

* * *

The explosion happened precisely as planned and to the very second it had been scheduled. The sonic had been planted on the edge of the domed structure, away from the crowds of people herding their way into the building. The symposium had been designed to reflect the ancient Greek amphitheaters of Earth, it's wide, curved shape allowing panoramic views of the unique atmosphere.

The Io Symposium was a wonder of modern science and a prime example of human arrogance. Only a hundred years ago the structure would never have been conceivable; now it was one of the prime locations for diplomats, academics and the social elite. It's previously inhospitable location made it all the more beautiful.

Io was the fourth largest moon in Jupiter's orbit. It was also one of the most geologically active locations in the Sol System, with one hundred and fifty one mountains, many more than six kilometers in height, and half as many volcanoes that blasted ash and magma over two hundred kilometers into an atmosphere formed primarily of sulfur dioxide. The combination of elements resulted in multicolored plumes of toxins and luminous auras of lights that painted the sky: beautiful and most decidedly deadly.

The structural engineering that had been required to house any kind of life on such a surface was one of the pinnacles of achievement in its field and the result of six decades of work. The dome alone had taken thirty years to perfect and had to withstand both the crushing atmosphere of Io itself and the intense magnetism of Jupiter.

Setting off an explosion of any kind inside it was tantamount to insanity.

Yet the man who had once been called George Samuel Kirk did so without hesitation or concern. He was even inside the building when he did so. It was just a means to an end. It all was.

It had taken him exactly nine minutes to secure the four men and women he had hand picked himself from every hell hole in the galaxy all moving in perfect synchronization to achieve their ends.

There were a thousand guests in the symposium itself. Another two thousand more seated across four viewing galleries. Of those three thousand, ninety were considered VIP guests or speakers. They had been secured in the main antechamber of the hall. The galleries had been put on lockdown. Sam had no need to secure either them or the main chamber by force. He'd let the seismic shift that had followed the explosion trigger a security override and rebooted the system to his own OS. From there it was a simple matter of locking the doors. The only way to open them, or to override the timer he had installed on the life support system was through the PADD he kept on his person.

Even then, you'd need to be able to read Xindi to make any sense of it. There were only three people alive who could do that.

He was one. Hoshi Sato had been his tutor, and she was under secure guard, along with the rest of Sam's Very Important guests.

The third was Jim, his wild card. It would be Jim and only Jim who would override Sam's lockout, no matter how things ended.

And there in lay his problem. He should have been able to pick his brother out of the crowds, but neither his men or the computer had been able to locate him.

He needed Jim for this to work.

He turned to the man in the Commodore's uniform besides him. Joxer had never and would never been a member of Starfleet. He hated them almost as much as Sam did himself, but at six three and the height of physical fitness, he also looked the part. He'd been in among the crowd of guests dinning on champagne from the very start of the night. He'd been the one to ID Jim as being in attendance, and it had been that call that had made Sam trigger the explosion.

"Reports?"

Joxer frowned apologetically. "Sorry Sam. I've got K Unit doing sweeps of the lower levels – the east wing took some structural damage in the blast, it's possible he got caught up in it."

The idea that he had come so far only to kill Jim before they had even begun sat cold and slimy in Sam's gut. He shook his head. "No. He's alive. Pull T Unit off the perimeter – no one on The _Enterprise_ is crazy enough to try a surface breach and the other ships in dock are all research vessels. We've got some time. I want him found."

Joxer nodded and flipped his comm. already relaying the message. He was a good second in command and had been with Sam from the start all those years ago. They'd been through hell together for this and Sam trusted him with his life.

He trusted him with Jim's life.

With Joxer occupied, Sam addressed another of his lieutenants. Tora was not the only woman in Sam's team, but she was the most fearsome. Nearly seven feet tall, she had never once said a word in Sam's hearing but she obeyed his orders to the letter. "Find Hoshi Sato. Bring her to me. Pick anyone in a uniform that you don't like the look of and bring them as well."

Tora smiled grimly and disappeared down the corridor as Joxer returned. "You're moving a little early." He remarked, frowning.

"Sato's a threat. And if Jim's just playing hide and seek, she's also a sure fire way of bringing him out into the open." Sam didn't need his eidetic memory to recall the way Jim had curled up at Sato's feet, eager for stories of Starfleet and the universes they had explored. He'd recite them words for word to Sam later those evenings, eyes bright with enthusiasm. Sam had always shot him down, not wanting to hear about all the things and places that had held such a sway over both his parents. Eventually Jim had stopped retelling Sato's stories. Sam had been relieved until he realized that they had been one of the only times Jim had ever really come alive. He'd been such a mouse of a child. Timid and shy, never wanting to trouble anyone, scared of drawing their mother's attention for fear she would overlook him entirely for the man whose eye's he'd had the misfortune of inheriting.

He'd honestly expected Jim to fade away after she had died. He'd not been able to stop it happening, and that was partly why he'd left. Now though... god, look at Jim now.

Sam supposed it wasn't Sato's stories that had brought Jim to life, but the universe itself.

"I know we've been over this," Joxer said, his pale eyes wrinkled with concern. "But are you sure this is wise? He's not going to be the boy you remember. And it isn't like he's some brat straight out of the Academy – he's a goddamn Captain. He's Starfleet's poster boy. I'd say he buys the whole friendship and goodwill spiel down to the last letter."

"I'm sure he does." Sam said quietly. Down the corridor, he could hear faint cursing and knew Tora was returning with Sato and another poor bastard he was going to put down for the greater good.

"And what exactly is going to change that?"

Sam looked down at the PADD in his hand. "The truth." He said.

The truth he had gone looking for had paled in comparison to everything he had found. By the time he knew, it had been too late. Jim was out of his reach entirely and then he'd gone and saved the universe for the very people he should have grown to despise. Still, all Sam had to do was show him. Show him what had been taken from them and why.

And when that happened Sam would be the least of Starfleet's worries.

When that happened, Jim would burn them all to the ground himself.


	8. Chapter 8

Holy wow, I can't express how wonderful it has been to receive your thoughts and excitement for the last part! I'm thrilled that you like the inclusion of Sam and I love hearing all your theories. I promise I wont make you wait too long before reuniting him with Jim!

This part is fairly light overall in comparison to some of the things coming (Jim's brain is a strange, strange place). If it is too light for you, just remember he's bleeding to death. If that's still too light, I just posted a little one shot that might be the angstiest thing I have written! Hopefully that should balance you out!

* * *

Jim Kirk lay on his back and contemplated the universe.

To be fair, there wasn't much else to do. Count sheep, maybe. Conjugate Klingon verbs. Tell himself jokes – he thought they were funny even if they made Bones glare at him. List the periodic table by atomic mass, in reverse.

None of which sounded particularly appealing.

He should have brought a pack of cards. Next time he was doing that. Apparently there was no telling when he would get impaled on parts of a building and he needed to start preparing for that kind of shit.

For that record, he was taking his life back to the manufacturers and demanding a refund. One week, hell one _day_ where the universe didn't try to kill him. He wasn't all that picky. He'd settle for a light maiming, a little scuffle, just one day that didn't result in him nearly dying, and/or needing major surgery.

_Dear Universe_, Jim thought to himself, _you suck._

He guessed he might be delirious when the Universe answered back in a voice that sounded scarily like Pike's did when he was being a grumpy sonovabitch _no shit, dumbass_.

He'd go out on a limb and say he maybe needed Bones.

And possibly a new shirt.

The metal strut poking out of his chest was still there and still poking out of his chest despite Jim's attempts to will it away.

He'd get up and move it, only, well… apparently movement was a thing he wasn't really capable of at that point in his life. That, and thinking like a sane human being.

His inability to focus on any one thing, least of all the fact that he'd just been in an explosion and Uhura was out there somewhere with people who might try kill them all over again, made it really clear to him that he had a head injury of a fairly severe nature.

He always got a little…odd when his brain got scrambled. Frank had fractured his skull once when he was twelve and he'd recited all seventy-two verses of one of Vulcan's more archaic pieces of poetry by the time the EMT had arrived. He vaguely recalled it being particularly dull, even by Vulcan standards and had no idea why he'd have bothered to learn it in the first place. He should ask Spock about it. Spock would like boring poetry.

Mental note made. Moving on.

There were two things Jim told himself he must not do: sleep, and sing.

Sleep because he was fairly certain now that his brain was more than a little scrambled and his skull didn't seem to be doing a great job of keeping it together. Singing because he tended to favor the more operatic numbers and had a voice like a cat caught in a carbon conductor. It wasn't pretty and he shouldn't inflict it on anyone, least of all his poor brain.

He was in _so_ much trouble.

Bones was going to kill him with one of his evil, malicious eyebrows. Jim had never thought that eyebrows could be sentient beings in their own right until he met Bones. It was down right creepy and majorly unfair. No one was afraid of Jim's eyebrows.

And then if Bones left anything of him alive, Spock would be _all over him_. Aside from the fact that Jim was bleeding, again, he also might just have sent Spock's girlfriend up against a bunch of terrorists.

Not that he didn't think Uhura more than capable of handling herself.

Actually, maybe it should be the bad guys he worried about. She might not have scary eyebrows but she did have scary everything else. Which was cool. If he was going to just lay there looking pretty and doing nothing, then he should at least be rescued by someone truly badass. His ego would demand nothing else.

The ground he was sprawled upon suddenly jarred painfully beneath him as footsteps reverberated through the surface. Heavy footsteps. Not Uhura.

If he were a positive, optimistic person, he'd have hoped for a rescue.

He was neither. Not really. Life had made one lesson perfectly clear: hope for the best, prepare for the worst.

Well he couldn't really prepare much of anything. He was unarmed and he couldn't move. He wasn't forming much in the way of coherent thoughts and even his best attempts at trying to make friends resulted in grievous bodily harm of some kind.

So he lay still. Let them come to him. It wasn't as if he had to worry about them killing him when he was almost there on his own.

A light suddenly shone in his face, blinding him. He blinked, tears flooding his eyes.

"That him?"

"Think so."

"Fuck."

"My thoughts exactly."

"We're dead men. He'll kill us for this."

"Wasn't like we were the ones to blow the damn building up!"

"Do you really think that will make any difference?"

Kirk tried to follow the conversation that was happening over his head. He still could not see much of anything, but he made out three voices, two male, one female. They seemed to know who he was, which couldn't end well for him.

Three sets of hands wrap themselves around him and pulled. He was wrenched free from the metal keeping him trapped and couldn't help the scream of pain that was tugged from his throat. Even if they weren't the ones who did this to him, Jim would go out on a limb and say they were all assholes.

"Jesus, he's bleeding everywhere."

They set him down on the ground, careful of his head and Jim blinked away the brightness in his eyes to try and get a better look at them. He frowned. They were all wearing Starfleet uniforms but following none of the protocol. He opened his mouth to try and demand identification – he was a captain, damnit, he could do that – when the woman leaned over him, dark hair brushing his face. She pressed a hand to his sternum and then something cool and smooth slid into the wound left open in his chest.

Jim couldn't remember anything ever hurting so much in his life. There was a small sucking sound, and then it was as if someone had poured cold water inside of him. The ice cool substance was thick like a gel and rapidly expanded, sealing the wound all the way through as the long needle was removed.

"Will it hold?" One of the men leaned over him to ask the woman poking around in his chest.

"An hour, maybe more." She shrugged half-hardheartedly. "Long enough to see this through, anyway. We need him alive, but he doesn't have to stay that way."

"I'll let you be the one to have that conversation with the boss." The same man said. "Now cuff him."

"Is that really necessary?" Jim liked the second guy the most. He'd have said so too, if his brain to mouth filter wasn't still trying to work its way around the numbing cold that ran all the way through his chest.

"He's a Kirk. You want to take the risk?" Jim didn't like the woman one bit.

"Yeah, but look at him. There's no one home." Kirk didn't object. The more helpless they thought he was – and ok, he was pretty damn helpless – the more of an advantage that gave him.

Which was whey, when they hauled him up to slap on a pair of standard issue restraints - six point lock, nothing fancy, Jim had slipped a pair just like them before – he didn't help them at all. The first guy, big and bulky, shoved him over, and despite the wave of pain, he seized the chance to unclip the guy's comm. and drop it into his own pocket. There was no time to activate it, but that would come later.

He stayed limp and quiet as he was hauled over the same guy's shoulder and carried from the basement.

If they wanted him alive and knew enough about him to think he warranted restraints then there had clearly been some planning. The general implication of their words was that someone else was running this show. The someone who had blown up Kirk's peace offering and dropped a building on him.

Jim owed that someone a fractured skull and a gaping chest wound.

Anticipation sat in his gut. He might be physically helpless and mentally jumbled, but this? This was what he did best. Let Uhura call in the cavalry. He needed to know exactly what the hell was going on if they wanted to get everyone out of this alive.

Time to begin.


	9. Chapter 9

I'm glad everyone liked Jim and his odd little brain! This part might be pretty slow and nothing hugely exciting happens, but it's probably one of the more important moments character wise so please hang in there! I promise you the next chapter will have both Sam and Jim and things are going to start going down hill pretty speedily!

* * *

Jim's vital stats were falling faster than the rain in monsoon season. His blood pressure was in the basement while his bpm had dropped to an all time low. McCoy hadn't once regretted implanting Jim with the small medical reader, not after he had failed to mention 'slight abdominal pains' and his appendix had ruptured right in the middle of Alpha shift. Since it had taken McCoy hours to repair the damage done by the toxins that had been released, he felt it was an unfortunate but necessary precaution to take.

Actually, it was the only one available. He simply could not trust Jim to say when he was in pain. He was incapable of admitting to it. On one memorable occasion, near the start of their friendship, he had broken his arm in a training exercise so badly the fractured bone had penetrated the skin completely. While McCoy had hurried to stabilize him, Jim, quite serious and with his priorities clearly all wrong, had told him not to worry, that it could wait.

McCoy also knew that Jim had bullshitted his way through his psycho evals so efficiently that his pathological inability to seek out help had never been registered at on official level.

And since he couldn't trust Jim and couldn't rely on outside support without jeopardizing Jim's career, McCoy had only the one option left.

When the truth came out no doubt their friendship would take a battering, but the ends justified the means. McCoy had always consoled himself with that knowledge.

It was also, however, simply a new form of torture. Karma for thinking he could try and stay one step ahead of a man who had already left their match behind.

He was watching Jim's death in the data before him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

That helplessness and frustration had no direction. They were already huddled into the shuttle that would take them down to the surface of Io and McCoy actually had to pay attention to Spock as he calmly briefed them all on the SOP for landing in such an inhospitable environment.

Besides, he couldn't turn to his usual habit of baiting Spock into showing emotion when even he could see the frustration on Spock's face as he stepped out of the shuttle a moment before it was cleared for take off.

Having already established himself as the point of contact on the ship, they could not risk being contacted again if Spock was in the middle of a rescue attempt. Secrecy was their only option and that was blown if Spock was not readily available.

McCoy could only imagine what Jim's response would have been if he had been the one in the same situation. The two men were often far more alike than either of them realized.

"He'll be okay." The young ensign sat next to him leaned over, one hand braced on McCoy's arm as both support and encouragement. "This is Jim we're talking about."

Kevin Riley was only just twenty and his young, dark eyes were filled with confidence and encouragement. A part of him still believed Jim had hung the moon and arranged the universe to his liking. As much as he liked to remain a realist, McCoy couldn't bring himself to burst the kid's bubble so only grunted illegibly in response.

They were a motley assembly. McCoy, cantankerous doctor, self-confessed space hater and full time babysitter to infant starship captains; Sulu a man who could actually go toe to toe with Jim when it came to claiming the ship's title as Chief Adrenaline Junkie; Kevin Riley, an engineer by trade but still the best shot they had; Thomas Leighton, who was almost as ruthless as the captain when it came to field combat; the hulking giant of a man whose nickname of Cupcake was now in official reports because of the tongue twisting nature of his actual name and Montgomery Scott, who made them all look like sane, normal individuals.

And they were flying down to a hunk of rock covered with sulfur spewing volcanoes to break into a building designed solely to keep the outside environment _out_ all to rescue a captain who was most likely about to die because his formerly dead brother had officially lost his grip on sanity.

Some days, McCoy actively hated the universe and everything in it. Everything, but mostly Jim.

Because really, this shit was not what he signed up for.

He had no idea what was, for that matter. He and Jim had both been amazingly drunk when they'd signed their lives away to Starfleet. Come to think of it McCoy was fairly sure there were rules against signing people on when they could barely remember their own name.

Pike was a sneaky bastard, he really was.

McCoy could have used his advice.

So far all they really knew consisted of Sam Kirk's crazy demands and the garbled, barely legible message from Uhura that had stopped Spock in his tracks when the bridge had piped it down to the hanger bay.

Damn hobgoblin really did love the girl. It gave McCoy hope.

Knowing that Uhura was on site and uninjured also reassured McCoy that someone in Jim's nearby vicinity had a shred of intelligence and could actually be counted upon to be of some use when the shit hit the fan.

And it would. It was only a matter of time. Uhura had said she'd been forced to leave Jim down in the remains of the building's basement in order to seek help. She'd sneaked passed several armed men and women, all of who wore Starfleet uniforms, and climbed through a ventilation shaft in order to reach the building's central communications hub.

The security protocol had been a mess, written in a language even she could not translate. Nothing was getting through it.

But Uhura had not wanted to penetrate the system, she had wanted to piggyback on it. She'd sent her communication down the exact same line Sam Kirk had used to make contact.

McCoy started to think that Jim's little crush on her hadn't been entirely based on her pretty face. When she gave them a basic template of how many people they were dealing with and where the hostages were being held, McCoy felt the stirrings of love himself.

The transmission ended on a sour note, though. Jim's condition was as perilous as McCoy had feared, but he now had a mental image of Jim trapped helplessly while his crazy brother did god knows what.

Jim's childhood was a topic that was completely closed to discussion at all times and Sam was no exception. McCoy only knew half the things he did because Jim had a tendency to babble when he was drugged. He also had some of the most spectacularly violent nightmares McCoy had ever seen.

On the rare occasion when he did talk about his family, McCoy had always ended the conversation with a strong desire to give Winona and Sam Kirk a good hard slap.

The rational part of his brain that only sometimes worked when Jim was concerned told him that blaming Sam for anything was unfair. Sam was a child himself and Jim should never have been his responsibility.

But McCoy wasn't even the kid's brother by blood, and the mere thought of abandoning Jim was a completely alien notion. He couldn't even imagine himself leaving Jim behind. Not now, not when they'd flown off to Vulcan, and not when Jim would have been a scared, hurting little boy.

But Sam had done just that. And worse, he knew Frank was dangerous. He'd left Jim behind with full knowledge of the situation. In McCoy's mind, anything that had happened to Jim from that point on had been Sam's fault.

And if Sam was to blame for what Frank did to him, then he was also, indirectly, to blame for putting Jim on Tarsus IV. McCoy could not, _would not_, forgive either.

When he'd first learned the nature of Jim's demons, he'd gotten blindingly drunk and nursed a hangover the entire weekend. Jim, in an uncharacteristic show of compassion, had left him water and a hypo by his bed when usually he'd have been blasting out obnoxious music. That was his way of acknowledging Bones' feelings without talking about his own. McCoy had never pushed.

What he'd wanted, more than anything, was for someone to hate for it all. Sam had made a good target for several weeks. Frank was out of the picture, and Kodos presumed dead. He couldn't hate Winona, dead as she was, and so only Sam remained.

And then he'd died as well, leaving McCoy with Jim to look after and no target for his desire to rip something apart whenever Jim's gaze looked a little too far to the past.

Now Sam was officially an option again and McCoy's hate returned ten fold.

He'd accepted long ago that he couldn't save Jim from his past. Hell, he'd never been able to protect Jim from anything really, only be there to put him back together again after the hurt was done.

But as the shuttle took off, heading down towards Jim and the one person in the world who could actually have a hope of breaking him completely, McCoy found knew he would do whatever it took to do the job right this time.

And if Sam Kirk harmed so much as a hair on Jim's head, if he even whispered a word that inflicted pain… then to hell with his oath and to hell with Starfleet.

Leonard McCoy would kill him.


	10. Chapter 10

Okay, we are finally here! Sam and Jim (and Hoshi!) unite. Please be warned, this is where things start to get nasty. There will be death, there will be trauma, there will be bad language and blood and eventually Bones' killer eyebrows.

I've been asked for a timeline for this universe and where things like Tarsus fit in, so here it is roughly. Keep in mind that while I am following nu!canon for most things, there's some serious embellishment going on and lots of nabbing from tos. Things like Tarsus IV (and even Frank if we discount deleted scenes) are not nu!canon, but any excuse to whump on Jim is a good excuse.

2233 Jim is born. Yay! Sam is 4. George Kirk dies. Winona pulls a John Winchester.

2243 Winona is killed. Jim and Sam go to live with her brother Frank (no one likes Frank).

2244 Sam runs away from home. This is the last we'll see of him for a while.

2244 Jim drives a chevy off a cliff. In Iowa, where there are lots of cliffs.

2246 Frank goes to jail. Jim goes to Tarsus IV. We all know how well that goes.

2247 Jim returns to earth. Stays with Hoshi Sato for three months.

2255 Jim gets very drunk, hits on Uhura and joins Starfleet. From here on things follow nu!canon.

2258 Jim takes Uhura to a symposium which is then gatecrashed by Sam and his merry band of men.

2259 Khan. Still not ready to talk about it.

Final note: I am not siding for or against corporal punishment when dealing with children. Total neutral ground here. Jim, however, was raised by a man who thought nothing of smacking him around when he stepped out of line, so his view of the appropriate punishment of children is a little off center.

Actually no. Final note is this: oh dear god I am so nervous about this part! I hope you like it! Did I mention I am nervous?

* * *

Jim was dumped not so gently down onto the ground and winced as a high-pitched voice began screaming profanity in his ear. The thin arms belonging to the screamer wrapped themselves around him in what would probably have been a comforting gesture if he weren't bleeding internally, so he guessed the curses weren't aimed at him.

That would be a first. People liked to scream things at him for some reason. As if volume dictated the level of attention he paid.

It didn't. His PT instructor had learned that the hard way. The buzz cut sporting grizzly bear that had run his cadre's physical training had picked on Jim relentlessly, even more so once he learned that the worse people treated him, the more likely Jim would exceed their expectations just to piss them off. He'd made Jim his TA in the second year and they'd gone drinking once a month after class. The miserable bastard still maintained that Jim was a horrible little shit that would never amount to anything, but he'd been the first to back Jim up when he'd stepped into the SRM with his Captain's stars and the whole room had fallen deadly silent. They kept in touch via monosyllabic comms every once in a while and until recently, Jim had figured he was the next best thing he had to a friend after Bones.

If anything Jim figured his ears had been trained to withstand pretty much anything by now.

Apparently not.

He cringed and turned his head away from the sound. Small hands cupped his cheeks and petted his hair and he wondered briefly if Uhura was back. She could probably make his ears bleed if she tried.

But the voice that slowly started to soften was older, richer, and laced with touches of countless accents and dialects. It was a voice unique in Jim's experience, and it was a voice he loved.

He blinked open his eyes and looked up into Hoshi Sato's furious face.

Jim hoped to god that look wasn't for him. He valued his continued existence. Hell, even as an angry teenager he'd done his best not to piss her off. It hadn't always worked – even Jim would admit he had not been a nice person at fourteen – but he'd managed to evade her true ire.

Hoshi-san had never hit him, even when he'd deserved it. Especially when he deserved it, actually. He'd pulled some real shitty stunts while she'd looked after him and she'd never retaliated once. It was strange to see her now, fists balled and utter fury in her eyes.

"Are you out of your minds?" She screamed over Jim's head. "What the hell did you do to him?"

Jim rolled his head sideways and finally got a good glimpse of the three who had played amateur surgeon with his insides. Terrorists should really have some kind of facial tattoo because they all looked completely normal. One of them, the big one who had carried Jim up from the basement, had stood in line next to him when he'd fetched Uhura and Hoshi-san their drinks.

He kicked himself. He should have spotted them then.

The woman looked at them both scornfully. She was middle aged and might have been pretty if her expression hadn't been so hateful. "We saved his life."

"I'm fine." Jim croaked before Sato could continue her tirade and get them both killed.

"You be quiet." Sato scolded him.

Jim obediently went mute.

Instead of trying to defend himself, he studied the room they were in.

He and Sato were on the floor in the middle of what looked to be one of the conference rooms. A large, circular table surrounded them, pilled with tech, weapons, and what Jim recognized as T119Sonic Grenades. All in all, some serious firepower, and a sizeable amount of kit.

He reassessed the likelihood that this was a small attack of opportunity and the seriousness grew.

Behind Sato knelt a woman Jim recognized from the Academy. Commander Nixon had taught him Klingon in his first semester before he'd tested out of her class to free up room for advanced diplomatic training. She was a speaker at the conference and if Jim's memory was correct, she had never really stepped foot outside of the Academy. An academic like Sato, but one who was happy to keep her feet on the ground and teach. Her training barely kept her fear in check.

Jim didn't bother to try glance reassuringly in her direction. He knew he looked a mess.

Instead he continued his observation as Sato patted him gingerly down.

Aside from the three who had found him, there was another large man he thought he heard someone address as Joxer, a terrifying looking woman with short hair and a more muscles than Jim, and a sixth figure standing on the far side of the room. Jim couldn't make him out at all.

Comms occasionally fired to life, suggesting that there were at least three more people out there. He'd take a guess at nine – each contact identified themselves as a separate unit of designation, and since the one who had found him had three members, he hazarded a guess at fifteen in total, Joxer and Mystery Man included.

Enough to be a significant problem, even if he wasn't held together by what was probably some weird cosmic glue.

He needed to think his way thought this. Clarity was fleeting, but he forced his brain to work with the facts it had.

And while he did that, he wriggled in Sato's lap.

To anyone watching, he looked like he was simply protesting her attempts to check him over. He didn't need to fake his sounds of pain as he moved, but they helped sell the illusion as he twisted his arm as far as he could and thumbed the comm. on in his pocket.

At best, the Enterprise would get a word for word run down of everything that unfolded. At worst, they'd at least be able to track his location.

He needed his crew. He needed Bones to growl at him and maybe do something about his broken head, and he needed Spock to nerve pinch like the Vulcan ninja he secretly was.

If he couldn't have that, he'd settle for Sulu decapitating the lot of them.

The man Jim thought was called Joxer signaled to the woman standing closest to them. Her phaser rifle was aimed at Sato. "Move." She ordered.

"Fuck off." Sato snapped, reminding Jim once again why he adored her as much as he did. "Cowards, the lot of you."

"Maybe." Joxer nodded calmly. "But we are cowards with a cause. Your Federation has failed to facilitate our demands and a message must be sent. Your deaths will have purpose."

"Glad to hear it." Sato fumed. "But you'll have to pull him out of my dead hands if you think I'm going to let you hurt him."

Jim shook his head and swallowed enough to speak. "Don't."

Damnit, he was the ranking officer in the room. This was his job. He just…his body wasn't listening to him and his head and ideas of its own.

"What exactly are your demands?" Jim managed, addressing the man who seemed to control the room.

To Jim's surprise, Joxer's expression softened. "We have no intention of harming you, James Kirk."

"And why the hell not?" Jim demanded. "You just threatened two members of Starfleet, why not three?" Then, as an after thought, "Good job on that, by the way." He waved a weak hand down to indicate the generally battered state of his body.

Joxer winced. "I apologize."

Jim blinked. That was new. "Well you could make it up to me by maybe not murdering people."

"That is not my decision to make."

"Be quiet, Jimmy." Sato tried to pull him down again and failed. Responsibility for both her and Nixon, as well as the countless other innocent people being held hostage made Jim stronger than he had felt in hours.

"Then let me talk to the guy in charge."

"You will." Joxer promised. "Soon enough. But now –" he signaled again, and this time the woman was joined by the rest of her unit. Jim was jerked roughly out of Sato's arms and dumped back on the ground.

Panic the likes of which he hadn't felt in years rose inside as control of the situation slipped through his fingers.

"No! Don't do this! Whatever you want, there is a better way of getting it I swear. Just tell me and I'll help you." But Sato was dragged away from him, a heavy boot pushing down on his stomach keeping him from struggling up after her.

He was helpless again, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from her pale, serious face. "It's alright Jimmy." She tried to comfort him. Then she switched to a language that only he could understand and spoke the words that no one had said to him since he was a small child. "_You'll be alright, Jimmy. I love you, and you'll be alright."_

Tears blurred his eyes and her face distorted. He was suddenly looking at a woman much younger than Sato, her blond hair a twisted tangle at the nape of her neck and her pretty face set with fierce determination. He struggled to get to her as she was forced to her knees, suddenly feeling a lot smaller and weaker than he knew he was. Arms around his middle held his fast no matter how hard he kicked and they tugged at his hair, pulling his head back, making him watch.

Winona Kirk died as defiantly as she had lived, only a slight smile meant for Jim gracing her lips as the phaser fired and ended her life.

Hoshi-san gave him more. She repeated her words again and again. Calm and soothing as if it were Jim who was being made to kneel, a phaser at his head.

He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe.

He screamed for her like he had screamed for his mom and it still made no difference.

Beside Sato, tears streamed down Nixon's face. They killed her first.

She fell gracelessly to the ground and Jim swore he'd kill them all. They were cowards, all of them. Murdering innocent women for what? What could possibly be worth anyone's life?

Joxer moved to Sato, his phaser aimed at the back of her head.

"Please." Jim begged. "Please don't do this."

Then suddenly the shadowy figure at the back of the room spurred forwards. He crossed the room with long, graceful strides and dropped down at Jim's side.

Light hit the profile of his face and Jim's jaw dropped open in shock.

"Sam?"

It had been thirteen years since he had seen his brother. Eighteen months since Sam had officially been reported dead. But he knew those eyes, could recognize the serious set of his mouth and the spatter of light freckles across his nose.

The world spun entirely on its axis and what little blood Jim hadn't lost already left his head in a rush. He felt sick and cold and had no understanding of what he was seeing or how it was even possible.

"What…Sam what are you doing?"

Sam couldn't be involved with this. Sam couldn't just be standing by and watching this happen. His brother wouldn't do that. It was the head injury. Jim wasn't thinking straight. It had to be.

Sam shoved at the man who kept Jim pinned down and hauled him up into his arms. "I'm sorry Jimmy. I won't make you watch, but this is going to happen."

For all that Jim struggled, Sam was stronger. He curled his hand around the back of Jim's neck and pressed his face against his own chest. Jim could see nothing but blackness, the long missed scent of his brother strong and dizzying as he tried to escape and failed.

Sam's arms tightened around him and he rocked Jim carefully. Then, over his head, he spoke to the men that clearly looked to him for their orders.

"Do it."

The phaser fired and Sam whispered soothingly into Jim's ear.

He didn't hear either.


	11. Chapter 11

I don't think Sam has endeared himself to anyone.

Thank you so much for your support and encouragement. My nerves are shot right now as we start to get deeper into the nitty gritty parts of the plot. I hope you continue to enjoy!

* * *

Hoshi Sato lay where she had fallen, motionless on the ground.

From the alcove she had hidden herself in, Uhura cried silently.

Recrimination was bright in her mind as she struggled to maintain her composure.

After leaving Jim she had found the central control hub and had been able to patch a communication through to the ship from the same channel being used to broadcast the threats made against the guests. It had been relatively easy, even if she was unable to override the entire system. Gaila had taught her that – sometimes you needed to work with the restrictions computers already had in place instead of trying to bend them to your will.

What she had been able to do, other than make communication with the bridge, was block incoming connections. So while the men and woman holding the guns controlled the building and the systems going out, she controlled anything coming in – mainly the media channels all vying to tap into the feeds.

It wasn't much, but if she could keep scenes like this one from ever making the press, she'd consider her job done well.

Spock had reassured her that not even they could open the channel without her overrides.

From that point, after giving her report, she'd turned her attention back to the captain. She couldn't leave him down there alone.

Unfortunately they had found Kirk before she'd been able to leave. Caught in the same room they had brought Kirk to, she had hastily scrambled into a hidden alcove several feet above the main floor. From there she could only watch as Hoshi Sato and one of her own tutors had been dragged in at gunpoint while her captain had been dumped carelessly on the ground.

Spock had attempted to reassure her but what could she do? They had her captain and Kirk wasn't even close to his usual fighting standard. How was she supposed to help him?

But before she could form a plan or Spock could talk her through one of his own, Jim had been screaming for Sato and the two women had been murdered right in front of them both.

"Nyota," The sound of her given name brought Uhura's attention away from Kirk and back to the task at hand. She reached up to touch the small earpiece she had pieced together out of kit she had pilfered from the room below her and clung on desperately to the sound of Spock's voice. He sounded as frantic as he ever would - which was to say his voice was even and calm and perhaps only she could read more from it. "What is your condition?"

"I'm fine." She said, her voice so soft and quiet her lips barely moved. "They…they just executed Hoshi Sato and Commander Nixon." She hoped her voice sounded stronger than it was to her own ears.

"And the captain?" Spock asked.

"He's…" Uhura couldn't tear her eyes away from Kirk. "He's bad. They made him watch." The pitiful attempt to shield him meant nothing.

She realized that the only times she had ever been exposed to real violence in her life, Kirk had been a main instigator. First at the bar, and then on the bridge when he'd provoked Spock. That was it really, the extent of her exposure to violence. Sparing and training at the Academy didn't really count. It was controlled, it was safe.

There was nothing safe about this. Being on the bridge in the middle of a firefight…there was something almost impersonal to it all. Then in the aftermath of battle, the threat was long passed and the emotions different.

She wondered how many times Kirk had witnessed such acts of barbarity. She wondered how he rationalized it all in his head.

And if there was a limit to what he could reasonably endure.

Physically, he must have reached it. If he'd been anyone else the sheer fact that he remained conscious would have shocked her. Kirk's stubborn determination was as much his trademark as his charming smiles, and she'd seen him work through some horrific injuries in the past. After the confrontation with Nero he'd been a complete wreck, but he'd worked through the pain for hours.

But Sato's murder looked to have been the final straw for Kirk. Shock had set in with a vengeance, robbing him of any adrenaline-fueled strength. Even from her distance, she could see him shaking violently, his body limp in the arms of the man who had ordered Sato's murder. Jim had been shocked to see him when recognition had set in.

That recognition, combined with the conversation that had occurred before Sato's execution led her to hope that Kirk might not be their intended target after all. They didn't seem to want to hurt him, and Sam even removed the cuffs Kirk had worn as he continued to rock them both back and forth.

If she trained her sensitive hearing carefully, she could just about make out their conversation.

"I'm so sorry Jimmy. I'm sorry I had to do that." Sam seemed to be repeating the same variant of his apology over and over. If Kirk heard him, he gave no indication at all.

Uhura couldn't help recall the adoration in Kirk's eyes when he'd looked at Sato, nor the way she had held him at their reunion. She didn't know what Sato had said to Kirk before she had died, but the broken desperation in Kirk's voice as he'd pleaded for her life would haunt Uhura for the rest of her days.

Movement below made her jump. Joxer crossed the space to where Sam and Jim sat. He placed on hand on Sam's shoulder and leaned down to look at Jim. "He needs help, Sam."

"He's fine." Sam said stubbornly. "You're okay, aren't you little brother?"

Uhura swallowed painfully. Spock had relayed that piece of information as soon as she'd made contact. Knowing who Sam Kirk was to her captain, his recent actions seemed all the more horrific. Who did that to someone they should love?

"Sam please." Joxer coaxed. "He needs a doctor. After all this time, after we've come so far…are you really going to let him die because you're too damn stubborn?"

Sam said nothing at first. He stroked Jim's hair and seemed to be talking to himself as much as he was the captain. "I'm not doing this to hurt you, I swear it. I need you to understand that, Jimmy." When Kirk did not respond, Sam turned to his second in command. "There has to be a medic in attendance at the conference."

"It's not a medic he needs, boss." Joxer said quietly. "He needs a doctor. Maybe we should contact the _Enterprise_. They've got to have someone and they'll never leave him to die down here."

"No." Sam said flatly. "We can't risk it. Bring me a medic from the hostages."

An idea brewed in Uhura's mind and she touched the comm carefully. A crazy, reckless, Kirk inspired idea. "Commander, can you patch me through to Doctor McCoy?"

The connection was still live. "That is possible." Spock said instantly. "What are you thinking?"

"The captain is in a pretty bad way. I think I know a way to help him, but I'll need McCoy."

She knew Spock would understand her intention and she ached at the situation she was inadvertently putting her in. Spock's first instinct would be to protect her, and from the spot she occupied, she was relatively safe. But his duty was to the captain, and Uhura was in a position to assist him, so she must.

A moment later, Leonard McCoy's angry voice sounded in her ear. "You're absolutely goddamn crazy if you're about to do what I think you are." He said without hesitation. She could only assume that her comms had been patched straight through to the shuttle.

"Can you talk me through it?" Uhura asked.

"Sure." McCoy didn't hesitate. "I've got his stats here and if you can help me out with his physical condition then yeah, I can theoretically instruct you. But being a doctor is more than just swallowing a copy of Gray's Anatomy and spitting out diagnostics. It's instinct as much as knowledge, and Jim's a pain in the ass on a good day."

"But you can do it?" She clarified.

McCoy sighed. There was significant background noise and she knew he and the rest of the team would be landing any minute. "Yeah, I can do it."

"Excellent. Stay on the line."

Jim Kirk's crazy was clearly rubbing off on her, she thought, climbing down from the alcove and brazenly slipping back out through the small door she had used to gain entrance.

From there, she had to double back towards the main conference area and hope that when she announced herself to one of the armed guards that she wasn't shot on sight.

Kirk would have her commission for this.

He'd also be pissed he hadn't thought of it himself.

Glad she had left her uniform jacket – and identifying insignia – behind, Uhura put her hands over her head and stepped out into the corridor.

Time to do something crazy.


	12. Chapter 12

Time for some Pike feels! Hopefully by now the motive for writing this story the way I have will start to be making sense – the aim is to get the characters from where they were at the end of IX to a place emotionally where they make the kind of choices they do in STID. Jim especially. Please note I said 'hopefully' and 'start to make sense' :p. Also today is my birthday and I'm in the mood for some nostalgia – I knew my posting schedule would work out eventually!

Usual warnings in place: Frank/Tarsus/Sam (Sam gets his own warning now)

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Arranging transportation off planet wasn't as easy as they made it look in the holos. Even in Starfleet there was paperwork to be filed, authorization to be signed off on and palms to be greased if you wanted it moved along faster.

The exception to that rule, however, seemed to come only when you had four stars on your shoulders. Then, Pike discovered as he made his way through the shuttledocks towards the vehicle that would take him up to the Lunar Station, gears moved pretty damn quickly.

The cane probably helped. It was as identifying a feature as his face these days. Everyone knew who Christopher Pike was, and if he was hurrying around with an expression like the one he was currently wearing then shit had probably hit the fan somewhere.

Still, nothing was moving fast enough for his liking, least of all his own legs. McCoy had done an admirable job putting him back together after Nero – in fact he'd done what several surgeons had since said should have been impossible – but the recovery process when the damage had been as extensive as his had been was still far too long. Aside from the fact that nerve regen was still an infant science comparatively speaking, Pike was self aware enough to suspect that a large part of the problem might also be psychosomatic.

That Romulan bastard had really done a number on him.

Technically he wasn't even cleared for anything more strenuous than glaring at Jim Kirk via a long distance comm. they'd only signed off on letting him teach at the Academy because they were so horrendously short staffed. So far he'd not met a cadet that had tested him as much as Jim had. Hopefully he never would. One Jim Kirk was enough for the universe and more than enough for Pike.

He had first met Jim when the boy was just three years old, left unsupervised to wander around a starship like it was his own personal playground. As a young officer, newly promoted and still trying to fit in to a new post, he should have just stayed quiet and kept half an eye on the kid but instead he'd taken Jimmy's hand, marched him up to Commander Kirk and –respectfully – laid into her for her lack of care.

She'd not taken it well at the time, but a week later he'd been called on to babysit Jim and his brother Sam. Three months of that and he'd loved them both. But Winona moved on quickly, taking both boys with her.

Memories of Jim's innate curiousness and solemn blue eyes stayed with him for seven years until he met the boy again, this time at his mother's funeral.

Glimpses of the angry boy he'd seen in Sam were already blooming into something that had the potential to explode in all their faces while Jimmy had barely spoken two words the entire day. Pike hadn't expected Jim to remember him, but by the end of the week Jim was messaging him every day, desperate it seemed for someone to talk to.

Pike hadn't hesitated. His career was on the up and he had a wealth of stories to pass on to someone as bright as Jim. He took a genuine delight in watching the boy slowly come out of his shell as their conversations continued over the course of several months.

When Sam ran away, Pike had promised Jim he'd use every resource he had to find the boy. And he had. He'd called in favors and made promises he was still paying off to this day. No one knew where Sam Kirk had gone. Winona had taught her sons well.

He should have gone to Jim then, but he'd convinced himself not to crowd the boy, to let Jim come to him instead.

It was the greatest mistake he'd ever made.

When Jim had called him from Riverside County Jail, Pike had been on the first shuttle out there. The boy's uncle refused to bail him out and though he'd tried to sound nonchalant about it all, Pike had heard the fear in Jim's voice at the prospect of being locked up.

He'd bailed Jim out and walked him home before catching a shuttle back to Starfleet. He'd given the boy the lecture of his life and like an idiot, not read into the cause behind the consequence.

Mistake number two.

He'd not known: not had the slightest inkling that Frank had been abusing him. Neglect, dispassion, he'd seen plenty to indicate that Jim was an unwanted presence in Frank's life, but the boy was tenacious and he'd endured the same from his mother. Pike had no grounds to interfere.

Until he was called again by Riverside County. The shuttle took him right passed the jail to Riverside General and to the side of a little boy who'd clearly been beaten to within an inch of his life.

In the two days Jim had remained unconscious Pike never left his side and the whole horrifying story had been pried out of Frank. It hadn't been a one off event. He'd beaten Sam as well when the boy had been around.

Counselors had been brought in. Jim had flinched from him at every turn, and if there had been anything more to the abuse than beatings, Jim had never told him. He'd talk about Tarsus before he'd talk about what Frank did. That, Pike suspected, told him all he needed to know.

That had come next. Tarsus. Not straight away. First, he'd tried to keep Jim with him on Earth. He'd been ready to throw away his career to care for the boy and he'd poured all the savings he'd had into lawyers to make it happen. In the end it had been his own commanding officers who'd put a stop to his dreams of giving Jim a home. It had taken time for Pike to forgive them for that.

He suspected a part of Jim never would.

That was when he lost the little boy he loved. It had been happening before Jim had left Frank behind to rot in jail, but the progress had been there, steadily taking a hold and crushing the life out of the sweet child Jim had been.

The Jim they had rescued from a slaughter house on Tarsus bore no resemblance to the Jim who had sent Pike terrible jokes and asked him about Orion foreign policies. He was a hard, angry, dangerous young man who had hated everything in the universe only a little less than he'd hated himself.

He'd pushed everyone away. Pike, Hoshi Sato, the dozens of people who had grown to care for him, despite him only briefly touching their lives.

And there, mistake number three.

He'd seen Jim only the once after he'd been rescued. He'd gone in with his own self recriminations flooding his mind and had nearly wept at the pitiful creature Jim had been reduced to. He'd been compromised emotionally, and Jim had viciously, ruthlessly, destroyed him. After all, Pike should have done better. If he'd been more observant he'd have known about Frank; if he'd fought harder, Jim would never have been taken off world.

He'd left the hospital, unable to face the weight of his failure. He'd left Jim behind once again.

And he'd not seen him for nearly ten years.

It had been ten years that he'd grown himself. Time he'd spent atoning for his sins in the only way he had the courage to do. He'd traveled the universe, helping people, trying to keep it safe. He'd matured, he'd gained back the confidence that failing Jim had taken from him.

And when he'd identified Jim from the mess of tangled, bleeding limbs draped across a bar stool, he knew that this time he'd be strong enough to hold the kid above the water.

So throwing away his ethics, he drew on everything he remembered about the teenager Jim had been, and he threw down a gauntlet Jim could never have refused.

Pike had refused to leave him behind again. Even if Jim hadn't gone on to save the damn planet it would have been worth it. _He_ would have been worth it.

"Sir, I have Admiral Marcus on the line." Pike cringed when he answered an incoming transmission and his secretary broke the news. Marcus was a hardass and a borderline fanatic. He and Pike had frequently clashed over Jim, mostly when Marcus felt Pike was being too soft on him. Despite that, Marcus had been the one to personally sign off on bring Jim into Starfleet in the first place. All of Jim's assignments and test scores were relayed directly to the admiral's office and it had been him to recommend Kirk's field promotion be maintained, despite his later claims.

Pike had never been able to get a grasp on how Marcus actually felt about Jim – if he was friend or foe – and so he struggled to trust him as he once had. "Patch him through." Pike sighed.

Hopefully the shuttle would be in orbit before he was grounded.

"I don't recall you being given permission to fly, Chris." Marcus drawled slowly. He showed no outward sign of anger – a dangerous sign to one who knew him so well.

"I've been cleared for duty." Pike said truthfully.

"Don't bullshit me, son." Marcus was also one of the few men on the planet who could get away with calling Pike 'son'. It irritated him as much as it irritated Jim when Pike did the same. "You're flying to Lunar so you can hop a long distance transport beam to the _Enterprise_ and talk Sam Kirk down off this damn ledge he's backed us onto."

Pike sighed. He couldn't lie. "Kirk's my responsibility-"

"_Captain_ Kirk is." Marcus agreed, stressing Jim's title. "His brother is something else entirely. We have no idea what it is he wants because let me tell you, this whole Earth out of the Federation shit is a crock of bull. It's not possible and he knows it."

"Then what do you think he's after? Jim? Because there would have been far easier ways to get to him."

"I don't know and I don't want to speculate." Marcus said flatly. "What I do know is this – your former First just made contact. Seems Kirk's not the only crew member on the surface. Their Communications Officer is doing a damn good job of keeping this from hitting the media, but she's also keeping us out as well. Only intel we have from the inside is being relayed through a botched comm. unit."

Pike's mind flew to Nyota Uhura and he smiled. She's been busting Kirk's balls since day one, and she'd managed to win over Spock in record time. The woman could work miracles by the sound of things. "What's she saying?"

Marcus hesitated only a moment. "They executed Hoshi Sato and Yasmin Nixon twelve minutes ago. Kirk was in the room with them. His condition is critical. Spock informs me that the rescue party has landed but has yet to breach the perimeter."

"Have they made contact again?" Pike asked, his mind recoiling in horror at the words he was hearing.

"Nothing. Spock's acting as lead negotiator but let's face it, empathy isn't his strong suit. If Kirk were in better shape I'd say we let him run with it and see where we go, but from the sounds of things we need you up there."

"You're not grounding me?"

"I'm telling you to hurry the hell up." Marcus barked. "Finish this before things really start to get messy. Marcus out."

Pike leaned over to get a glimpse out of the window. The Lunar Station was in sight. Within it was a prototype device that had been built from the equation generated by Montgomery Scott. It had yet to be tested over a distance further than 100 parsecs.

Pike would be the first. Jim trusted the crazy Scotsman, and that was all he needed to know.

Even Archer's dog had shown up eventually.


	13. Chapter 13

Thought for the day: beer bad. Cake good.

Also, this chapter will probably be confusing as hell. I blame Sam. He's a contrary fellow.

* * *

The human mind was a strange thing. Ask someone what they had for breakfast three weeks ago, odds are they'd come up blank, but ask them to recall a very specific memory from years and years ago, they could describe events down to the smallest detail.

Sam Kirk was something of an anomaly. He remembered everything.

The day his mom came home with a small, squalling baby as a replacement for Sam's father was an incident that stood out in no greater detail than any other.

Jim had confused him right from the start. The idea of having a little brother had been much more exciting than the reality, but he had adapted quickly. One day he'd been playing with his friends, and the next his mom was loading him into the shuttle of a starship, passing him a bundle of blankets and telling him to keep the baby quiet while they took off. He'd held Jim before, but he'd never been on anything that flew, and the idea scared him.

Jim had been born in space, and in Sam's mind he might have been afraid to go back, so he rocked the baby like his mom rocked him and convinced himself that it was Jim he was trying to comfort and not himself.

It was a pattern that had followed them throughout their childhood. Jim had followed him around like a puppy, always wanting to do whatever it was Sam was doing, and when he was sad or scared, or their mom had ignored Jim for a little bit too long, Jim would crawl into his arms and hide. And Sam would complain, but he'd let him, and in doing so he found a little comfort in the cold reaches of space.

It wasn't that Winona had kept them isolated on purpose – she'd introduced them to people in all walks of life, made them listen and learn and absorb everything they could – but they moved on so frequently that any attachments they made were soon a quadrant away. And forget about friends their own age. It was just Sam and Jim.

That was possibly Sam's first mistake: assuming that the Jim who sat as captain on the bridge on the Enterprise was the same little boy who had crawled into Sam's bed during ion storms. No longer the small, scrawny, doe eyed waif that had haunted Sam's steps, his little brother had grown up into a man Sam had never met before.

And if that knowledge wasn't enough, he finally understood the one thing he'd sworn he'd never forgive his mother for: because James Tiberius Kirk was, from his brilliant blue eyes to the strong set of his jaw, every inch George Kirk's son. Just looking at him was enough to make the memories of his father stir painfully.

He wondered if Winona would have been able to be proud of everything her youngest had achieved, or if she'd never have been able to make it past his face. Sam certainly had difficulties and he'd only known the man for four years.

But their dad would have been proud of Jim, Sam thought. George Kirk had been the perfect Starfleet officer right from the very start of his career and his famous death had not been in the least bit out of character. He would put others first, always. Jim was like their dad.

Sam was like his mom. Bitter, vengeful, willing to do whatever it took to even the score, even at the cost of her own sons.

Jim lay bloody and senseless in Sam's arms, his body shaking as shock set in.

This was the part of his plan that was the most dangerous. Everything balanced on a knife's edge. On the one hand, victory. On the other, Jim's death. It had taken Sam a long time to decide if the payoff was worth the risk.

But he'd done his homework extensively. The damage his little brother had taken was nothing his doctor couldn't heal. He just needed Jim to stay alive long enough for the rescue team he wasn't supposed to know about to breach the symposium walls and swoop in to save the day.

So when Joxer brought in the pretty young woman with the worried eyes and the stubborn set to her jaw, Sam sat back and let her play doctor. She rushed to Jim's side, her hands seeking out his face to soothe and comfort. Sam rocked back on his heels and let her work.

It was clear she was trying hard not to look at him and she kept up a running commentary as she worked – pointless really as Jim was barely conscious and Sam could see perfectly the damage his brother had taken. He said as much and she finally looked at him, no amount of fear able to mask the anger in her eyes.

"I work better when I can think out loud." She snapped. "It wouldn't be a problem if you hadn't blown up the damn building."

Sam shrugged. "Needs must." He admitted. "Patch him up. I want him conscious."

"He's got a fractured skull." She said nastily. "A couple of broken ribs and a damn hole in his chest. You want him singing and dancing as well?"

Sam pulled a face. "God no. His singing's the worst."

She ignored his attempt at a joke. "He needs a trauma center." She said after poking around at the back of Jim's skull and baring his chest for examination. "A proper regen unit and a better patch up job than a chest full of synthesized polymer. It's holding him for now but the longer you leave it the more damage it will do as it degrades. You convince the body that it's not actually injured and it's not even going to try and compensate for the damage."

"You seem pretty knowledgeable about the effects of a product reserved for SpecOps." Sam said 'd got the polymer directly from his contact in Section 31 - along with most of the intel on Jim's crew. John Harrison was a handy guy to be owed a favor from.

She glared at him. "I'm a medic."

"And what business exactly does a medic have at a xenolinguistics conference?" Sam asked.

The young woman actually blushed prettily. "I think he was trying to impress me." She admitted with a rueful smile in Jim's direction.

Sam laughed. "And did it work?"

The girl touched her fingers gently to Jim's neck, feeling for a pulse. "Yes." She said quietly. "It worked."

"Boss!" Sam's attention was drawn away to where Joxer was standing by one of the consoles. "Perimeter breach down on level B2. K Unit's engaging now."

Sam nodded and sighed for dramatic purpose. "Oh dear. How unexpected and inconvenient." Joxer snorted at his delivery. "Hail the Enterprise."

"Hailing now."

Nodding again, he turned to the young woman holding Jim in her arms. He'd heard she was good, but even he was impressed at how well she'd relayed the information being fed into her ear without giving any indication of its presence. "Now Nyota…it is Nyota isn't it?" She paled as he spoke. She'd not introduced herself when she'd been escorted into the room and she worn no identification. She hadn't even signed in under her own name when they'd checked in.

Sam's smile grew. "I need you to do something for me. Your captain's life depends on it."

Any attitude she might have shown earlier had drained away in mere moments. She clutched Jim tighter, looking much like Sato had before Sam had ordered her pulled from Jim's grasp.

"I need you to tell Commander Spock that he has ten minutes exactly –" he looked at Joxer who began a countdown on his screen –" to get Admiral Marcus on the line."

"He won't –" She shook her head. "He won't talk to you." She didn't even try and deny that she was on contact with the rest of her crew. He'd give her that.

"He will," Sam said with deadly conviction. "If he doesn't want me to splatter Jim's brains across the room."

"He's your brother." She snarled at him hatefully.

"And he's worth a lot more to Marcus than he is to me." Financially at least. Sam dreaded to think how many credits Jim had cost Marcus over the years. At least Sam had only been an expense for the first fifteen years.

She made no move to follow his instructions so he reached forwards, seizing a handful of her long hair and baring her throat. Pressing his lips close to her ear, he spoke directly into the comm.

"I know you can hear me, Commander. Tell Marcus that his failed experiment wants a little word with him, or I'll paint your girlfriend with Jim's blood."

He held her still for a moment, her heartbeat loud and frantic in his ear. Then finally –

"The Enterprise is answering our hail, boss." Joxer reported.

Sam released her immediately and she curled her body over Jim's, her shoulders shaking almost as badly as her captain's. Sam turned his back on them both. "See now, that wasn't hard."


	14. Chapter 14

BONES to the rescue! Also, celebrations to be had! We're officially half way through (not including any last minute changes). Thank you all so much for sticking with me this far, even if you want to poke Sam in the eye and hate me for killing Sato.

* * *

McCoy had been hovering close to the edge of a fullblown nervous breakdown for several hours. The cold, heatless words that were suddenly whispered into the comm. made his heart freeze in terror.

He'd never felt anything like it in his life.

He was a surgeon – life and death were two things he held in his hands on a daily basis. He could handle stress, he could handle being stuck in the middle of a combat situation with people bleeding out everywhere he looked, he could even handle Jim Kirk and how many times he'd needed to be wrist deep in the kids guts just to keep him alive.

What he couldn't handle, even a little, was the helplessness of being stuck on the other side of a damn wall while his best friend was dying. And he really couldn't handle the concept of Sam Kirk actually going through with his threats.

So in the space of that terrified heartbeat he was simultaneously screaming at Spock to get the goddamn Admiral on the line, and Scotty to blow a hole in the goddamn wall. His vocabulary was shot, his nerves fried, and if someone didn't do something _now_ he'd probably tear the wall down with his bare hands, exposing everyone inside to the toxic atmosphere and killing them all.

Apparently Jim was capable of robing him of rational thought as well as driving him completely crazy.

"Ach, just give me a wee minute will ya?" Even through the filter of the mask, Scott's irritated brogue was clear. "This is nee rocket science!"

"They don't have a minute!"

Riley and Cupcake were holding the perimeter of the building, their features masked by the suits that allowed them to walk on the surface and breath the atmosphere without any adverse effects. McCoy felt like a monkey in a suit.

They'd landed half a click away and walked closer, counting on the fact that what they were doing was tantamount to suicide if they didn't break through the wall in ten minutes or less. The building had been designed to keep everything out, them included. The irony of it all was that the designs had been implemented in an attempt to discourage terrorist attack. Back when constructed, they'd been having serious problems with Terra Prime and after years of peace, fear was slowly starting to creep back into the human psyche.

"What's happening?" Leighton asked. He was a serious man about Jim's age. MCoy had never seen him smile, though he looked almost relaxed sometimes when Jim convinced him to play a game of pool in the rec center. He'd lost an eye on Tarsus IV around the same time Jim's aunt and uncle had been executed by Kodos. The two men had bonded over shared loss and Leighton had been fitted with a state of the art digital device that allowed him to see through most solid surfaces. Jim called it his supersight but he was the only one with the nerve to bring it up in conversation.

McCoy shook his head, listening in on Uhura and Sam through the open channel with Spock. The ear piece felt alien and uncomfortable, but McCoy was glad he had it.

There was a slight sound of static, then Spock was speaking to McCoy directly. "Doctor, it is imperative that you secure the building as swiftly as possible. I will endeavor to keep the hostiles distracted with Admiral Marcus but I fear greatly for the captain's life."

No one needed to tell McCoy that. "Then tell Scott to blow the damn wall already!" McCoy said, just as Scott gave a cry of success and the wall they were facing imploded.

"Everyone in!" Scott hustled them forwards, into a room with a large airlock. As soon as they were through, he used a much larger, much cruder variant of the tool that had been used to patch Jim up to seal the hole they had climbed through. "Alright laddie!"

Riley didn't bother to try break through the security code that locked the door in front of them. He blasted the control panel to the side of it, reached his arm through the wall and hit the internal override switch that allowed easy departure.

The door slid open silently.

McCoy didn't wait.

He ran.

He left the rest of them behind, to hell with formation and standard practice and everything else he'd been taught. Jim was only rooms away from him now and he needed McCoy to be fast.

So he was.

He followed the schematics that showed on his headset and sprinted like the devil was on his heels. Up stairs, down corridors and towards the very heart of the building.

He didn't even wait when reaching the room Jim was in. He tore through the door and skidded over to where Jim was laid out between Uhura and Sam Kirk.

Fortunately for him, the rest of the team were hot on his heels. As he planted his fist in Sam Kirk's face, Riley, Leighton, Scotty and Cupcake were covering him with phaser fire.

Sam stumbled back. McCoy shoved Uhura safely down and threw himself over her and Jim both.

So no entirely to plan, and not exactly SOP, but whatever. Spock could chew him a new one later. Jim could kiss his ass.

Eventually the phaser fire stopped. McCoy didn't check to see which side won. He turned his attention to Jim, his heart loud in his ears as Spock demanded to know what was happening.

The first thing McCoy did was whip out his hypo, load it with the one painkiller that wouldn't stop Jim's heart, and delivered as high a dose as he dared. Then he set about a more thorough examination.

Moments after the first hypo had delivered it's dose, Jim's eyes fluttered open. They struggled to focus on McCoy. "Easy kiddo." He soothed, touching Jim's shoulder gently as he adjusted the hypospray to deliver the next load of drugs. "I'm gonna take care of you."

Jim's bloodied lips opened as if trying to speak. McCoy couldn't hear the words, but he knew Jim was calling his name.

"I know it hurts." McCoy said gently. "I'm going to make it better, just hang in there ok?"

"_Bones._"

"Shush Jimmy. I got ya." He couldn't recall the last time he'd spoken so gently to Jim. He didn't think he ever had. Jim hated being seen as weak almost as much as McCoy disliked showing the true depths of his feelings for anything. It manifested itself in a gruff, often harsh display of emotion that mostly consisted of McCoy threatening Jim and Jim barely humoring his instructions.

It was different this time. Jim had been shown so little love by the people who should have always stood by him, and he'd just lost one of the few who had in horrifying circumstances. McCoy knew he could put Jim back together again physically, but trying to mend the hurts he'd taken to his heart would be entirely different.

He blocked out the world around them and focused everything on Jim. He was only vaguely aware of Riley and Cupcake rounding up the entirety of Sam's team. Weapons were confiscated and each was separately secured. He hoped Cupcake stepped on a few of them in the process.

Uhura had already bared Jim's chest in order to give McCoy the visual feedback on Jim's condition and it was every bit as bad as she'd described it.

He placed his thumb on Jim's sternum, one side of the sluggishly bleeding wound that had speared him right through the chest. From there, he felt either side of Jim's ribs, counting three at least that were broken badly enough to be disjointed.

Those he could fix easily enough. It was the compromise of Jim's lungs that frightened him.

He could tell just by looking that the wound had penetrated the lung.

It hadn't collapsed yet, which was their one saving grace, but by filling the wound with the synthesized polymer, they had in effect killed off the capacity of one of Jim's lungs by at least sixty percent. His blood oxygen levels were barely readable and that was the true danger. Combined with the shock of both his injuries – the head wound especially – and witnessing Sato's murder, Jim's whole body had decided that it no longer gave a damn and was shutting down far faster than McCoy felt comfortable chasing.

And even then, Jim clung on stubbornly to his consciousness. Foolish brat.

"Scott, we need an emergency transport to Medical right now. I needed him in surgery twenty minutes ago." McCoy barked over his shoulder to where Scott and Leighton were trying to make sense of the computer keeping them locked in and the Enterprise out. Uhura had stumbled over to help them, her whole body shaking and her face streaked with blood, sweat and tears.

"I'm doin'e the best I can!" Scott yelled back in frustration. "But to be honest with ya Doc, we're gonna be better getting him on the shuttle."

"We don't have the time!"McCoy snapped. And he really didn't want to move Jim if he could help it.

"Well if you wanna come over here and make sense o'this nonsense, then be my bloody guest!"

"Here." McCoy almost missed the word that slipped from Jim's bloody mouth. "Bring here."

The part of him that was Jim's doctor wanted to tell him to shut the hell up and rest already.

The part of him that was Jim's best friend won over. "Bring the damn thing over here." He shouted. Across the room, Sam Kirk smiled. "I don't know what you're so damn smug about." McCoy growled at him. "He dies, I can think of about four hundred people who'll happily rip you limb from limb."

And that was just Jim's crew.

Scott nearly tripped over his own feet to bring Jim the PADD.

To McCoy's horror, Jim's eyes filled as they scanned over the strings of code. He blinked several times, trying to focus, and McCoy watched with bitter fascination as tears leaked out of the corner of his eyes.

He'd never seen Jim cry.

"_Kiaphet Amman'sor."_ Jim said faintly. In an instant, the code unraveled and Scott was already tapping away at speed. Jim tried to move towards him and help but McCoy would have none of it.

"No Jim. Just take it easy." He took Jim's hand and squeezed it tightly before following his gaze over to where Sam was under guard.

The two brothers stared at each other in silence while McCoy could only watch.

"Got it!" Scott suddenly yelled, and before McCoy had time to worry about his disassembling atoms, they were being beamed safely back aboard.

* * *

Seven hours after they'd secured the symposium, McCoy had signed Jim out of surgery and into recovery. The rest of the conferences guests had been briefed by Spock and released to their respective transport. Those who had required treatment had been seen to by M'Benga and Chapel. On the whole, most had been unharmed. There had been several cases of shock, and one heart attack in one of the older guests. A few cuts and bruises had been the norm. Uhura had been given a sedative and released to quarters to sleep, but Jim had come out of it the worst by far and fixing the damage done in the explosion had taken all of McCoy's considerable experience. He'd encountered the polymer they had used on him just once before and the issues he'd flagged with Starfleet Medical had not been addressed at all. While it worked very effectively at prolonging the window in which a patient had to seek treatment for serious injuries, it did so purely so they could complete the mission at hand. The life prolonging properties that made it so attractive in the field also made it a damn nightmare to actually treat in surgery.

But Jim was out of the woods and he'd recover. McCoy kept him induced and planed to do so for the next twenty four hours. Jim's body needed time to heal and his soul needed just a little bit longer before Marcus and the rest of Command dragged him into a damned interrogation. It was all McCoy could really do to protect him.

Actually, that was a lie.

There was something else.

Something else that had been sitting at the forefront of his mind ever since he'd found Jim bleeding in Uhura's arms. It had festered and grown while he'd been in surgery and now, looking down at Jim as he lay unconscious on the biobed, chest wrapped in clear polymer bandages that helped speed up the healing process and looking every inch the kid that he still was, McCoy's mind was made.

The hypo in his pocket was filled with only air.

Injecting air into the blood stream as a method of murder had always been something of a myth. Blood was oxygenated. Small pockets of air did no damage at all. The amount of air you needed to induce a lethal air embolism was considerably larger than a syringe could house.

Until the invention of the hypospray, which, incidentally, didn't even leave behind a pinprick of evidence at all.

There was a safety override on the side of a hypo to stop it accidentally self loading with air. It needed to be overridden manually. Thanks to Jim, McCoy could code his own PADD to a personalized OS. A hypo was child's play.

He signaled to M'Benga. "Keep him under watch at all times. No one but you or me goes anywhere near him."

"And Commander Spock?" M'Benga raised an eyebrow, as if to question McCoy's sanity.

He huffed. "Fine. You, me and the Hobgoblin."

"And Pike." The Admiral had arrived only moments after they had beamed aboard. McCoy had caught a glimpse of his face as he'd looked in through the observation window in Surgical Bay C but he'd yet to speak with the man and he had no real desire to do so.

"No." McCoy shook his head. "I don't want Pike anywhere near him right now." He knew he was being irrational and unfair to Pike, but McCoy didn't trust anyone who had played apart in Jim's past. Not right now. He trusted M'Benga as the only man who had ever operated on him, and he trusted Spock as a Vulcan who would do his duty unto death. That was it.

To his surprise, M'Benga only nodded. McCoy turned, but found his arm caught in M'Benga's grasp. "Leonard," he stressed softly, using McCoy's first name in a way he never had. No one called him Leonard any more. "I understand the urge to protect you friend, I understand the urge for revenge, but I beg you: do not do anything that _he_ would regret." M;Benga tilted his head down at Jim.

McCoy shook off the hold on his arm. "I don't know what you're talking about." He didn't even try make it convincing, he just wanted to give his friend deniability if everything went to hell.

M'Benga sighed but let him leave and McCoy refused to glance back as he exited medical and entered the lift. "Brig." He ordered the computer. The lift moved smoothly to take him to his destination.

M'Benga had it wrong. He wasn't going to do this for revenge. He wasn't even going to do it out of hate.

That Jim had been the only serious casualty of the day's events didn't sit with him at all. Yes, Jim was unlucky, but even he wasn't _that_ unlucky.

And why kill Sato? The woman was one hundred and thirty years old. Hardly a threat to anyone.

Sam was smart, he was ruthless, and he was after something. Something he wasn't going to find in a xenolinguistics conference.

They had captured him too easily, had won without much of a fight at all. Something wasn't right. McCoy didn't believe there was a jail in the universe that could contain Jim if he didn't want it to and he imagined Sam was no different.

Jim was at the center of this. Sam had attacked that conference at that time for a reason. He'd executed those woman for a reason. And he'd surrendered for a reason as well.

And in twenty four hours, Jim was going to wake up. In twenty four hours, no matter what McCoy said, Marcus would do what Marcus would always do, and put his best asset up against their biggest threat.

So yes, McCoy was going to kill Sam Kirk.

He was going to do it so Jim didn't have to.


	15. Chapter 15

Okay, sorry for the delay! My brother was in town and that meant a mandatory trip to the beach. Sun, sand and rum do not mix well with either technology or a posting schedule.

I'm glad everyone liked the last part! I know, poor Bones. Actually, someone came pretty close to guessing Sam's endgame, which excites me! I also got the best review ever from someone who said my cliffhangers are 'bad like sam'. Love it!

All those warnings I've been putting in are going to kick back into effect here. It's not the first time I've made reference to Frank and child abuse but it is the first time it's specifically acknowledged that there was a sexual nature to it, so please be aware. Bones isn't pulling any punches with Sam.

* * *

Pike beat him to it by a handful of seconds. They both stepped out into the same corridor from opposite turbolifts. By the looks of things he'd been on the bridge, most likely conferring with Spock who had everything under control and was most likely trying to find some logical way to justify everything that had happened.

McCoy might have been willing to buy into it he was that desperate.

"Doctor." Pike had to lean heavily on the metal cane he'd been issued, but his back was straight and his uniform as spotless and pristine as it had ever been when he'd instructed at the Academy. He'd aged a lot in the last few months, and all of that age seemed to have settled in his eyes. "Looks like you pulled another miracle out of your ass."

McCoy grunted. He wasn't in the mood to hear what a good job he'd done putting Jim back together. Still, he respected Pike and he knew Jim cared for him, so he managed a polite greeting and a nod of acknowledgement. Technically he should have saluted but Pike could write him up for all he cared. He'd been awake for too long and all that time had been spent worrying his ass off. Protocol be damned. "Admiral. Good to see you up and about."

Pike acknowledged McCoy's attempts for what they were while the lieutenant on duty in the brig almost fell over himself to snap off the salute McCoy had neglected. "Looks like we had the same thing in mind."

"I doubt it." McCoy said flatly. He met Pike's gaze evenly and said nothing when the man's expression momentarily shifted to shock.

"He's lost too many people he loves to death, McCoy." Pike said knowingly, recovering fast.

"He's lost a lot more than that, Admiral." McCoy felt the need to correct him. They were shown into the wide open space that housed the six separate holding cells. They were very rarely in use, but always under a duty watch, just in case. Thomas Leighton had this shift.

Sam's team had been split into two cells. Sam himself was the sole occupant of the one closest to the center of the room. It was there that McCoy and Pike headed.

"Here to read me the riot act?" Sam slowly stood from the long bench built into the cell's wall as soon as he saw them. If he thought he could intimidate McCoy, he was wrong. He'd been a cadet at Starfleet Academy who had spent one too many mornings being screamed at by officers for one harebrained scheme or another that Jim had dragged him in to. Nothing intimidated him. Not even the Admiral standing next to him – which was saying something because Pike was a scary sonovabitch when pissed off.

"Comfy? Can I get you anything? A spine, perhaps?" McCoy snapped at him.

Sam grinned and looked far too much like Jim when he did so. "I see why he likes you."

"You have no idea why he likes me." Sometimes McCoy wasn't even sure why himself. He certainly seemed to spend most of him time either yelling at Jim or inflicting pain on him.

"And we know why you like him, don't we Captain Pike? Sorry, it's Admiral now, isn't it?"

"What the hell do you want, Sam?" Pike didn't bother with the charade of civility.

"Nothing." Sam said. "I have everything I want right here. You're visiting _me_."

"On Jim's ship." McCoy growled. "Why is that? You two haven't been in the same quadrant for a decade and you both happen to crash the same conference?"

"I saw the itinerary, if that helps. It was going to be very boring."

"Right, so you spiced things up with a little public execution."

Sam sighed. "You're talking about Sato. That was… well I won't say regrettable. I've wanted to kill that bitch for years."

"You just had to wait until you could traumatize your brother in the process."

Sam stepped closer to the glass. They were only inches apart but McCoy couldn't reach out and hit him even if he wanted to. And he did. The first time had not been nearly satisfying enough. "Jim had no idea what she did. If he knew, he'd have been the one pulling the trigger."

"And what did she do? She was one of the most respected members of Starfleet. She helped found the Federation, she loved and cared for you and Jim both when you were children."

Hate flared up in Sam's eyes once more but it was quickly pushed aside. His poker face wasn't as good as Jim's, McCoy thought, and he wondered if Pike was trying to exploit that.

"Let me ask you something instead. Why was Jim sent to Tarsus?" Sam stared Pike down, his blue eyes dark with hate.

Pike frowned and McCoy lost his tenacious grip on his cool. "What the hell does Tarsus have to do with this?"

"Everything." Sam snapped, still not looking at McCoy. "It has everything to do with this. You saw what they did to him out there."

"Why do you even care? You didn't think twice before you left him with the drunken asshole who got his kicks molesting helpless little boys." McCoy's voice was dripping in venom and to his great satisfaction, Sam recoiled violently.

"I didn't know." Sam shook his head, glancing away from Pike to look at McCoy. "Frank never…he ignored Jim. He smacked me around, but I never saw him hit Jim, not once. And he never touched me, not like that. I wouldn't have-" Sam shook his head, looking momentarily lost.

McCoy didn't care. "You were probably a little too old for his tastes." He caught a glimpse of Pike's face out of the corner of his eye. He looked devastated and McCoy winced internally at the thought that Pike might not have known. Jim would be pissed when he found out. Hell, McCoy only knew thanks to Jim's downright abnormal reaction to a basic flu vaccine and the delightful twelve hours of delirium and hallucinations that had followed. They'd never actually talked about all the things Jim had revealed. Every time he worked up the nerve, Jim would turn a pleading look on him and he'd be incapable of going through with it.

But the cost of revealing that secret to these two men was outweighed by the genuine sorrow on Sam Kirk's face. _Good_, McCoy felt viciously satisfied. _Let him suffer._

"I didn't know." Sam said again. "I would have-"

"What, never left him there alone?" McCoy interrupted.

"No." Sam said coldly. "I'd have killed the bastard before he had the chance to do anything."

"I'm starting to sense a theme here." Pike stopped them both before McCoy could retaliate.

"Like you didn't think about it?" Sam sneered. "Like you didn't look at Jim after Tarsus and wish to god you had five minutes in a room with the people who'd done that to him." He turned his gaze to Mccoy, bright and with far too much knowledge. "Like you didn't come here planning to kill me now."

McCoy refused to show how uncomfortable Sam's knowledge made him so he lashed out instead. "Am I supposed to believe you care about Jim at all when you damn near killed him today?"

"It was necessary." Sam sighed. "He's tough. He's had worse."

"And that makes it ok?"

"Look, you want to protect him, I get it." Sam tilted his head to one side, contemplating McCoy seriously for the first time since the conversation had begun. "You're looking in the wrong direction." He raised his eyes to Pike's. "So I'll ask again: why was Jim sent to Tarsus?"

Pike relented, maybe as curious as McCoy, and possessing more knowledge than he did. "To live with his paternal aunt and uncle."

"Because you weren't allowed to adopt him." Sam said.

"That's right." There was no inflection at all in Pike's voice.

"Because Starfleet folded the case." Sam crossed back over to the far side of his cell and sat down on the bench. "Thank you. Now let me share truth number one:" he smiled conspiratorially, eyes black like a shark before a kill. "My dad was an only child."

"Wait," Pike demanded, leaning into the clear screen. "What?"

McCoy's response was similar, but before he could demand any more answers, the lights in the brig died abruptly before a red alert klaxon blasted out of the PA system.

"What the hell?" He shouted over at Pike, his hands pressed over his ears. Pike shook his head, already moving toward the computer.

Instinctively, McCoy looked at Sam, who shrugged his shoulders. "Guess we're out of time. I really do get why he likes you though."

And before McCoy could respond, he felt the cold blast of a phaser's stun hit him right between the shoulder blades.

Pike's voice called his name, but it drifted away into blackness. Above him, Sam stepped out of the cell, no longer confined and completely collected. "I'll tell Jim what you were willing to do for him." Sam reassured him.

McCoy couldn't respond. The world went black.


	16. Chapter 16

This is quite an info dump chapter, though I'm not sure anything actually gets answered. Mostly it's Spock and Uhura being adorable and thinky. The next chapter will be far more exciting, I promise. There will be Jim, Sam and the reason why Christine Chapel decided to leave the ship (way to screw with my head!canon STID!) It's going to be fairly unpleasant but Jim will finally get to actually have a conversation with his vaguely homicidal brother.

Also, as cliffies go, this is not as bad as the last one was, which was apparently bad like Khan! :D

Thanks again for sticking with me on this crazy journey of madness!

* * *

After nineteen hours on duty, Spock finally handed the con. over to Lieutenant Finney. He would have been able to leave his post earlier, had not Admiral Pike arrived on board, wanting a full briefing on everything that had happened since they had come into orbit around Io.

Since his arrival had coincided with both the rescue team's successful breach of the symposium and Admiral Marcus responding to Sam Kirk's threats, Spock had momentarily had two Admirals, a terrorist and Doctor McCoy all demanding considerable amounts of his attention at once.

It had been taxing. Doctor McCoy most of all.

But now the hostiles were secured, Admiral Pike appeased, Admiral Marcus placated and Doctor McCoy finally off duty. After a sudden surge of activity, the urgency of their situation had settled to a more sedate pace. Spock checked his station, assigned officers to maintain contact with Starfleet and made his way to Medical in order to assess the captain's condition himself.

He found Doctor M'Benga on duty with Nurse Christine Chapel as his assist. Pleased that McCoy had actually utilized his common sense and removed himself to his quarters for rest, Spock glanced over at Kirk as M'Benga briefed him on his status.

"We repaired the damage to his lungs. It took some time and he'll be vulnerable to pulmonary infection for a while, but we've dosed him with all the antibiotics we can. We're actually fortunate that the head trauma was a linear fracture: it should heal without invasive surgery. We're monitoring him for complications – I know Doctor McCoy is concerned about possible epidural hemorrhages, which can take some time to develop, but at the moment he's in the clear. He'll be off duty for at least a fortnight, possibly longer, depending how the after effects present themselves. The fractured ribs should have set before he wakes up: he's going to be confused and in considerable discomfort for a while, but given the circumstances…" M'Benga, much like McCoy, had a very matter of fact way of addressing things. Spock appreciated it, though he knew other crew members believed them to be callous.

"I am pleased to hear that the prognosis is positive." And Spock was. While he neither liked nor disliked Kirk, he did respect the man and he sympathized with the trauma he must have endured at his brother's hands. He would not see it extended or unnecessarily worsened.

"Kirk's a tough bastard." M'Benga said bluntly. "And McCoy could put Humpty Dumpty back together if he wanted to."

"I'm not sure that comparing the captain to a character from a children's nursery rhyme is entirely respectful, doctor, however I do see your point.

M'Benga's lips twitched. He was much quicker to smile than McCoy. Spock quite specifically made no mention to the slur against Kirk's mother. He was starting to question her entire genetic line. Having frequently heard the captain referred to by his peers as 'crazy' he felt the need to put Samuel in front of them as example of just how crazy a Kirk could really be.

He looked once more towards Jim's body. There was nothing more to be done here, but he found himself oddly reluctant to leave. He could find no explanation for the urge to seat himself by Kirk's side and no practical benefit from doing so.

"Please inform me of any changes to his condition." Spock requested. M'Benga was quick to agree. Then, as an after thought, "I'll be posting extra security outside. A precaution, but –"

"I'd feel more comfortable." M'Benga didn't make him try justify his concerns. Spock appreciated. "Please pass on my regards to Lieutenant Uhura. She did a fine job today. Maybe we'll make a medic out of her yet."

"I highly doubt that." Spock could imagine nothing less appealing to Nyota than medicine. "But I shall do as you ask."

"Thank you, sir." M'Benga turned back to Jim and Spock left without further comment.

Knowing Nyota as he did, he was not surprised to find her still awake, despite having been prescribed a sedative by M'Benga and threatened by Doctor McCoy.

Though technically she had her own quarters lower in the ship, she frequently spent time in his own room, finding a comfort and a solace in the space which he slept. Spock found himself only ever spending time in the room when she was present and could not understand her attachment to it.

Still, the sight of her as he stepped into his quarters made an indescribable tide of relief wash over him. He had feared…

He also expected her to seek comfort as soon as she saw him. She, like many humans, was physically tactile with loved ones and as a compassionate creature she was always quick to offer her own comfort to those who needed it. In the past Spock had always been concerned that what he offered in return was not a sufficient counter, but she had never raised a complaint.

But instead of folding herself into his arms as she sometimes did when upset, she stayed at his desk, thumbing through datafiles on a PADD. She had not even looked up at his entrance.

"Nyota," He admonished as gently as he could. "You should be resting."

"I'm sitting." She said absently.

"You are prevaricating."

"I can't get it out of my head." She trembled, arms wrapping around herself as if to provide a comfort he was failing to provide. The thought tore at him. He had sworn he would do better. He had promised himself that she would know his feelings for her were more than just a facet of compatibility."it makes no sense."

But words escaped him. He had never once been required to provide comfort to someone who had witnessed all that she had. He had always been the impersonal face of inquiry. The only experience he had that he could draw upon was the loss of his planet and that… no. He could not.

Lacking the ability to soothe her, he offered the only thing he could – his input into her thoughts.

"Show me." He asked and always would. They had done this before. The last time had been only a few short months ago when she had begged him to let her help shoulder the burden Vulcan's destruction had left him with. Her mind was stronger than most, but she had sobbed uncontrollably for hours. Her distress had been so extreme that Kirk, who's quarters backed on to Spock's had come running, half dressed and clearly concerned, to pound on his door. He's then overridden Spock's entry code, stormed in, and then backed out equally as quickly. When Spock had later explained the circumstances he had winced, nodded, and ordered Nyota off duty for forty-eight hours.

Spock had been reluctant to share his own mind with her since, but this was different.

He kissed her first, as humans did, then eased himself carefully into her mind.

Her trauma was a visible wound, her fear a tangible thing. He felt her terror as the room exploded, her concern at Kirk's condition and then a rush of warmth and affection soon after as she realized what he had done to protect her. He stayed in her thoughts as she left Kirk behind and almost single-handedly coordinated their rescue, then watched as she stayed hidden and Kirk begged for the life of a woman who was executed without mercy.

He carefully moderated his own thoughts and emotions as she was threatened by Sam Kirk and only stopped to examine more closely as he found what was troubling her.

Sam Kirk's illegible coding.

Though he studied it in detail, he could find no reference for it in his own extensive collection of knowledge.

"It's the same language Sato used to speak with Jim, I'm sure of it." When had Kirk become Jim, he wondered? "She didn't say much but from what I can grasp of it the morphosyntax is compatible even if not an exact match, but I've never come across anything like it."

"Do you believe it is a variant of a conlang?" Spock probed her thought process with words now instead of a meld. He had the knowledge he needed to support the process and no doubts that she would inevitably reach an accurate conclusion. In many ways he was far more effective at helping her formulate ideas and theories than he was with Kirk. Kirk's thought process was erratic at best and downright undecipherable on some days.

Nyota shook her head. "No, no I don't think so. It's certainly nothing a posteriori but I have no idea where it takes its root form. I've literally never seen or heard of anything even remotely comparable."

"Which rules out the likelihood of it being a constructed language based on prior formations." Spock concluded.

"I…I think it's a variant of Xindi." She looked up at him questioningly. Her face was pale and lined with stress. He should care for her, insist she took her medication and leave the postulating until she had rested. "Actually, I'm convinced of it."

"The conference was focused on the various dialects of the Xindi populous, was it not?"

"Yes, but that's the thing. No one has really studied any of the languages Dr Sato recorded during her encounters with them. It was banned for years and only recently has anyone even started to look at them again."

Spock was familiar with the disturbing history that Earth had with the Xindi people, just as he was with Dr Sato's tireless campaign to have the languages of the planet's people studied in great depths. It was key, she felt, to understanding them and preventing atrocities like the ones that had occurred several decades prior. "But as you said yourself, you have no basis for comparison."

'Yes, which is why I think it might be Xindi Aviatic. It was extinct hundreds of years before the Xindi made contact with Earth."

"And Dr Sato taught it to the captain for what purpose? Even a curious human could not see the benefit of learning a language that no one else could understand."

"I think his brother understood it. Before she was killed, Sato kept calling out to Jim. That's what made him reveal himself." So an extinct dialect from a language long since banned from study. Still, "Why rely on that precise language knowing Jim could translate?" Nyota asked the question already on his mind.

"Unless that was always his intention." Spock concluded. Which meant that – "he wanted the captain to be the one to break his encryption."

"But why?" Nyota asked desperately. "Jim was bleeding to death. If he'd lost consciousness like any normal person would, we'd never have broken it. Why did he want it to be Jim?"

The answer provided itself to Spock just as the red alert klaxon sounded and his comm. chimed. He recalled the words he had seen Jim speak in Nyota's memory. A complex combination of sounds that, when broken down, covered just enough of Jim's unique syntax to replicate almost any word or phrase.

Or authorization.

Still, to use it they would need access to the ship's computer. Access that you could not get from inside a locked cell.

Reality dawned cold and dark. Spock's jaw tightened grimly as he opened a connection to the bridge. "Send an emergency response team to the brig. Lock the ship down. All crew members must check in with their department heads. We have a traitor on board." Nyota flinched at his conclusion.

Scott's voice suddenly joined the connection. "Sir, we have a real bloody problem."

"Report, Mr Scott." Spock was already on the move, heading for the bridge with Nyota close behind him.

"Someone's triggered the captain's emergency override. And I know it canae be Jim since the bugger's unconscious. Which means some jammy bastard has gone and locked us out of our own damn systems."

"Can you override it?" Spock asked.

"You canae bloody override an override!" Scott spluttered. "And certainly no one coded by Jim Kirk. It'll take hours."

"We do not have hours, Mr Scott. Report to the bridge. I need all hands."

"Aye sir."

Nyota caught him just in time to catch a turbo lift up to the main deck. "What does that mean?"

Spock turned to her, knowing she could read the seriousness in his eyes. "A captain's emergency override is designed to be implemented in times of extreme crisis when he needs complete control of the entire ship at his disposal. In the past it has only ever been implemented when a ship has been evacuated following critical hull breaches, or during mutiny. It means, in essence, that the rest of the crew have no control over any of their systems."

"But what would be the point?" Nyota frowned. "And shouldn't we try head them off? We can't leave Jim unprotected if there is someone on the inside."

Spock shook his head. "I ordered a security detail posted outside Medical." He said uneasily, fearing they would be ineffective against the threat being posed. "However it is imperative that we reach the bridge." Spock knew Kirk well enough to know that he would have demanded the same. The ship came first.

"Why?"

The turbo lift stopped and they stepped out into organized chaos. "Because while we might be locked out, orders can only be given from here. The bridge is the last fortification should a ship be invaded by hostile forces. It is only from here that the captain could use the control he has seized."

Horror dawned in Nyota's eyes and she scrambled over to her station just as Scott tumbled out onto the deck. "They're going to take the bridge? Are they mad?"

Spock hesitated for only a moment. He wished he could wait for Pike to appear, but he knew he could not take the risk. "I feat they are going to try." And with only a handful of the people he would have chosen to counter the threat at his side, Spock sat himself down in the captain's chair and nodded to the crewman standing at the entrance. "Lock us down, Mr Guiotto."

They had to do it manually, but within moments, the entire bridge was sealed. Lights dimmed and the sealed secondary air supply started pumping filtered air into the bridge. They were completely inaccessible from the outside. So long as they held the bridge, they had time.

Time to try and break through the critical damage being wrote on their systems, and hopefully time to figure out exactly what Sam Kirk was trying to achieve.


	17. Chapter 17

Finally, (some) answers!

Also, congrats to Reader, whose reviews continue to delight me. I'm stating to question if you can read my mind somehow!

* * *

The doctor's body made a heavy thud as it hit the ground. Seconds later, Admiral Pike's did similar and the screen keeping them locked in the cells dematerialized.

Sam Kirk stepped out of his cell and held out a hand for the man who had done what he had once feared impossible.

Thomas Leighton hesitated only briefly before returning the gesture.

"That was nicely done." Sam praised, checking over each of his team to ensure their health. Joxer and Cali - the tall woman with the buzz cut who repeatedly kicked Sam's ass at pool – dragged McCoy and Pike into one of the recently vacated cells and reactivated the field. "You could have warned me that the doctor was a maniac." Sam touched his sore jaw gingerly. For a medical man, McCoy had some pretty impressive upper body strength.

"You nearly killed Jim." Leighton said, his eyes narrowed in anger. "That was never part of the deal."

"He would have been fine if he hadn't tried to save the woman." Sam protested as Leighton lead them out into the corridors. They were surprisingly empty.

"All crewmembers have to check in with their department heads. We've got maybe three minutes before security runs a full sweep from A Deck down. Maybe half that before someone knows I'm missing. Commander Spock will have sent reinforcements to the brig, so I suggest we move on."

"Lead the way." Sam indicated as they all fell into step behind Leighton. "How is Jim?"

"Out of surgery last I heard." Leighton guessed, leading them beyond the turbo lift to the ladder access that ran the entire height of the ship. He jumped on the rungs and sped down three levels before jumping off. Sam followed and landed with a thump on the metal ground. "If McCoy left him then he must be doing okay."

"Crazy bastard. Who the hell charges into a room filled with armed men like that?" Sam had known of McCoy's presence in the team trying to reach them and it had been one of the main reasons why he'd managed to keep a lid on the panic he'd felt when Jim had been brought to him in the condition he had. Damn kid always had to make things difficult.

"He cares about Jim." Leighton said as they waited for the rest of the team to arrive. It only took seconds and the klaxons still rang.

"He's lucky he didn't get shot. Joxer has a twitchy trigger finger."

Joxer landed and rolled his eyes. "Can we get a move on?"

Ever serious, Leighton nodded. "Your team needs to be heading down another six levels. Take a right at the first turn and follow the route straight down. By the time you get there the place will be swarming with people – engineering runs the most rigorous spot checks during alerts. Scott should be on the bridge, so just try not to look like blood thirst criminals."

Sam and Joxer shared a look. They were hardly the most inconspicuous of people. Speed and stealth were their best allies, but if in doubt, look like you belonged.

"You all know what you need to do." Sam looked each one in the eye, knowing that if this went wrong, it might well be the last time he could do so. "We make our own luck, remember? I'll see you shortly."

They saluted as one before moving back to the hatch.

"Don't kill anyone," Leighton called after them. "It's going to be hard enough getting Jim on our side as it is."

"Don't I know it." Sam grumbled. "Okay then, lead on! I can't wait."

Leighton ignored his sarcasm and led him down the corridor towards Medical.

The doors slid open to admit them and Leighton had seven of the assembled technicians stunned in seconds. Sam was impressed, but then he always had been. Tom and Jim had been the very best of their class.

Speaking of Jim –

Sam crossed to his brother's side as soon as the path was clear. A woman in blue medical garb tried to stand between him and Jim. Sam didn't pull his punches, not this close. He seized a handful of her blond hair and slammed her head hard against the wall. She went down with a whimper, in time with the outraged cry of the dark skinned Doctor making his way towards them. Leighton raised to fire but Sam shook his head.

"He's unconscious," he jerked his chin down at Jim, who looked almost as vulnerable and in need of his protection as he had when he'd pleaded with Sam not to leave. "Why?"

"Traumatic brain injury? Punctured lung? Post surgery anesthesia? Take your pick!"

Sam refused to let the effect of the words show. "Wake him up." He ordered.

He couldn't wait any more. He needed Jim.

"I can't just wake him up! He's unconscious!"

Sam reached down and grabbed a hold of the nurse's hair once again. She cried out as he hauled her up to her feet and held her fast. The doctor's expression was anguished.

"Don't! Don't hurt her."

"Then wake him up!" Sam said, giving the woman a good shake. He had no intention of killing anyone else until he could get his hands on Marcus, but the doctor did not need to know that. "I'm on a tight schedule here. Wake him up, or I break her neck."

"Geoff, don't. The capt-" The nurse sobbed when Sam squeezed the words from her throat with his hand.

"Geoff…Geoffry M'Benga." Sam pulled up the information he had digested on Jim's medical crew. "You're a highly respected doctor, I hear. More than capable of waking this lazy bastard up to join the fun."

M'Benga hesitated. Sam raised the woman a little higher, until her heels lifted off the floor. She was a short thing, and small. He had no problem holding her.

"I'm not the captain's physician." M'Benga said reluctantly. "He has allergies-"

"He's fine with auroxin. 18mm of that should do the trick."

"I can't."

Jim really did have the most absurdly stubborn crew. Sam sighed, then reluctantly reached up and gave the nurse's arm a strong twist. She screamed as the bone broke and M'Benga scrabbled for a hypo.

As soon as he'd delivered the drug to Jim's system, Sam let the nurse go. She stayed where she fell, clutching her arm and sobbing quietly. M'Benga raced to her side.

Sam ignored them both. Already Jim's eyes had started to flutter open.

He didn't wait any longer. He pulled back the sheets and carefully eased Jim upright.

"Sixty seconds, Sam." Leighton announced from his spot by the door. He'd not said a word when Sam had been holding the woman, but then he'd seen far worse long before he'd enlisted. He'd been only fifteen when Kodos's men had butchered his parents right in front of him. He'd been spared the slaughter, just like Jim had.

Killing them had been furthest from Kodos' mind.

Nothing Sam could do would even compute with him so long as it was not Jim Sam harmed.

It had been the thing they had bonded over: their mutual love of little Jimmy.

Not so little any more, Sam thought as he hauled Jim upright. Kid had packed on the muscle since he'd seen him last.

"Come on Jimmy. Time to wake up."

Jim's head lolled against his shoulder as the drugs dragged him kicking and screaming back to reality. The kid needed rest, Sam knew that, but as much as he wanted to give Jim the time he needed, they just didn't have it to spare.

"Sam?" Jim's eyes – their father's vivid blue eyes – fluttered open. Sam smiled at him trying to head off the inevitable freak out when Jim came fully back to consciousness. "What are you doing?"

"Saving your sorry ass." Sam helped Jim out of the bed and supported most of his bodyweight as Jim's legs struggled to engage. "Just like I used to. Remember Risa? When those strippers wanted to make you their mascot?"

"Hmm." Jim agreed, clearly not even close to coherent thought. "You're dead." He said tiredly. "Burned you."

Sam swallowed against the lump in his throat. "I know. I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry about a lot of things."

He slowly forced Jim to take one step, then another. He kept Jim's arm over his shoulder and hand another fastened in the waistband of him loose white scrub pants.

With each step towards awareness, Jim struggled more against Sam's hold. "You killed Hoshi-san."

"I did." Sam agreed. "She deserved it."

"Loved her." Jim said, his body sagging more against Sam's side.

"That's why she deserved it." Sam said, his thoughts turning bitter as they always did when thinking of the woman who had once shown him more care than their own mother. He'd loved her too, though he'd never have admitted it. That was what made learning the truth about her so painful.

Leighton rushed up to them both and took Jim's other arm. "Tommy?" Jim frowned, betrayal written all over his face.

"I'll explain everything Jim, I swear." Leighton couldn't look him in the eye. "But you have to come with us now."

"Bones. I have to stay. Bones said stay."

"He'll understand," Leighton soothed. "Come on Jim, you have to keep on moving."

But Jim was having none of it. The drug M'Benga had given him should have had a far quicker reaction than it was, which made Sam think that maybe his head injury was to blame. "Spock…"

"Really don't want to be thinking about your terrifyingly Vulcan XO right now, Jimmy." Sam muttered as he and Leighton dragged Jim out into the corridor. As soon as they were clear, Leighton used Jim's overrides to lock Medical from the outside.

"He probably won't kill us." Leighton mused.

"Let's fucking hope not." Sam would rather avoid that confrontation if possible. Hopefully Spock and the rest of Jim's crew would be doing their jobs and protecting the one place on the ship that absolutely could not fall into enemy hands.

While Sam and Leighton headed in entirely the opposite direction.

"You've not met Spock." Jim said, exhaustion and confusion thick in his voice. "Angry eyebrows. Him and Bones. Very angry."

Leighton and Sam shared a look. "You always were an awkward sonovabitch." Sam sighed. He dropped his chest and pulled Jim up over his shoulder as gently as he could. Jim still hissed in pain but he didn't try fight, thank god. "Shall we pick up the pace?"

"How exactly are we going to get him on board when he's drugged to the gills?" Leighton asked angrily as they sped up.

"Lets get what we came for and get him off the ship. We can wait it out if we have to."

"So now we're kidnapping him?" Leighton didn't sound impressed. "Again, not part of the agreement."

"We are rescuing him." Sam said firmly. "And if you haven't noticed I'm having to so some serious improvisation here."

Because the best laid plans of mice and men clearly couldn't account for the walking agent of chaos that was Jim Kirk.

"He's going to kick your ass when he wakes up properly." Leighton muttered darkly. Now that Sam would like to see. "You know they will come for him. Pike, McCoy… Marcus. They'll hunt us down."

"You let me worry about Marcus."

"With pleasure."

It wasn't easy, and required several stops, false starts and mad sprints to cover, but they finally made it to their destination.

The rest of the team was waiting for them. "You got it?" Sam asked, seeing two of them still suited up. Between them they held a metal case. It had been designed to house one very valuable, very volatile cargo.

"How long before they know it is missing?" Joxer asked Leighton.

"Scott will probably be on it first but we've been running on auxiliary power for the last four days. The reactor has been offline for refits ever since we docked. If Scott doesn't check – and he will, he's as paranoid as Jim – then they won't know there's a problem until they come to reboot. Even so I'd guess we have an hour at least."

"Excellent." Sam said, tightening his hold on Jim. "Then I'd say the job's good. Let's get the hell out of here."

Joxer nodded and activated his comm. "Harrison? We're done. Seventeen to beam up."

They clustered close together as their signals were locked on remotely. He might not trust John Harrison as far as he could throw him, but the man was terrifyingly talented and knew how to pay back a debt. This would be them square, and Sam hoped to god he never encountered the man again. Marcus certainly had his hands full with that one.

Moments after contact, the familiar pull of an activated transporter beam engaged, taking Sam and his crew safely from the belly of the _Enterprise_, her captain and her dilithium crystal in their possession.


	18. Chapter 18

Should I be alarmed at the sheer number of you who want Jim to suffer and/or die (die!) to teach Sam a lesson? Yikes.

To answer a few questions:

1. No, it wasn't Finney he will however be at the center of another fic that is on its way, because _The Court Martial_ was a great ep and I've been fascinated with how nu!crew would handle a similar situation.

2. Khan. Khan won't be appearing in person, so worry not. I'm not emotionally capable of expressing my many and varied Khan feels so he's just a passing reference. Sam needed an active contact in Section 31, and Khan is exactly the kind of guy who'd help someone else screw Marcus over, if only to deflect from his own schemes.

3. 'I don't want Sam to be redeemable.' Ok, well I'm going to let this part speak for some of his motivations for what he's done, but they in no way excuse his actions and they aren't supposed to. More on that later!

Okay…so here we go. The Big Reveal. The Truth (as Sam sees it). So, so, sooo nervous! God, I hope you guys like it. I've been drawing it out for so long now that I'm genuinely terrified and will likely go self medicate with ice cream after posting.

Enjoy! And also, eep!

* * *

McCoy found Jim's command crew sequestered in the Captain's ready room. It had been twenty four hours since Sam Kirk had successfully seized control of the _Enterprise's_ computers and taken both her dilithium core and her captain. The crew was numb, shocked to learn that one of their own had been implicated in their betrayal and cut adrift without the brilliant leader they had so quickly come to depend upon.

They were living in a nightmare.

Pike had officially taken control of the ship. Marcus had decided no one was to be trusted as either competent or loyal until every person on board had been vetted externally. Spock, reeling from the shock of having been played so ruthlessly, had not uttered a voice of protest.

McCoy simply found himself traveling the halls in a constant daze of numb terror. His entire department was traumatized. Half his nurses had been stunned, though physically unharmed. Christine Chapel had needed to be sedated before her hysteria had overwhelmed her, and M'Benga had attempted to resign twice, blaming himself for not watching over Jim better.

A part of McCoy wanted to blame him as well. The professional side won over, but only just. Now running on a skeleton crew, he had treated all injured himself.

The ache between his shoulders from his own encounter with Leighton felt like an all too light punishment for having failed Jim again.

They'd watched the recordings taken in the thirteen minutes it had taken Sam and his men to break out of the brig, kidnap Jim, steal the dilithium and then be transported away.

And in every moment his mind was not actively engaged in something else, McCoy could hear Jim's voice over and over in his head. "_Bones. Bones said stay_."

Jim had looked for him as he'd been taken, and McCoy hadn't been there because he was too busy being a fool and trying to play hero.

He should have been there. If not for Jim, then for his own staff. They were all his responsibility and he had failed them. Anything that happened to Jim now…

"Doctor McCoy, thank you for joining us." Pike's tone was unusually somber as McCoy took a seat beside Scott. After Spock, Scott was SOIC. After Scott, McCoy was the next ranking officer on board. Sulu sat to his right as the next down the chain. Thomas Leighton should have sat beside him, between Guiotto and Uhura. Chekov and Riley made the final numbers in Jim's hand picked team. It was a controversial formation, just like the captain who led them.

And the empty chairs spoke whole verses in their silence.

Pike spared no more time. He asked Uhura to patch Marcus through and the Admiral's image dominated the large viewing screen on the wall. There was no doubting who was in charge now.

"Report." Marcus said briskly.

Scott spoke up first. "We're still holding steady on auxiliary power, sir. The lads are working around the clock to get the reactor back on line, but it's slow going."

Marcus nodded. "The dilithium provided to you is adequate?"

"Aye, it'll do the job. Not as well as her own, mind. The cut's no exactly calibrated for the ship's unique requirements. I'd estimate gettin' seventy percent out of her, no more."

"It will do. Until then, the _Potemkin_ will take over the _Enterprise's_ currently mission slate. Your priority is Kirk. What progress have you made?"

That led to Spock speaking up. "We have been able to reverse engineer the ion trace left behind after teleportation to formulate a number of possible locations. Engisn Chekov and his team are currently eliminating the least logical options."

If Chekov had any nerves at being put on the spot in front of the head of the Fleet, he showed no sign of them. He idolized Jim, and instead of being broken up by his kidnapping, he'd ranted spectacularly, summoned together a team he deemed worthy, and hit the figures with a single-minded determination to get their captain back where he belonged.

They all had, actually. McCoy wished to god Jim could see for himself how much they cared about him.

"So far there are still sewenteen thousand six hundred and sewen possible destinations. It is slow process, but we persewere."

"I've made some progress translating the language Sam Kirk used to lock us out of the Io Symposium's computers. It's most certainly Xindi, but without any keystone it's proving difficult to get more than a rough sense of anything." Uhura reported without prompting. She'd actually gone into Jim's private PADD, looking to Scott to hack the password which they had all assumed to be ludicrously complicated but had turned out to be _b0ne5ha5angryeyebr0w5_. Jim had a habit of writing his diary entries in different languages. He said it helped keep them fresh in his mind, and there had been more than a dozen written in the same Xindi dialect.

"And has there been any attempts by Kirk to contact you?" Marcus asked.

Uhura shook her head. "I'm keeping all channels open. He knows we'll be listening for him. If he has the chance-"

No one wanted to think what radio silence from Jim could mean. That he was unconscious, that he was too sick, too hurt, that he was being restrained. Sam had proven twice now that for all his protests to the contrary, Jim's health came secondary in his priorities to whatever end game he was playing. McCoy had imagined a hundred different scenarios, each more horrifying than the last.

"Keep at it." Marcus ordered.

Pike spoke up again. "Sir, when exactly are we going to the media with this? Kirk's face is known across the Federation. We'd be in a much stronger position if we could call on public support."

Marcus shook his head. "I want this kept quiet as long as possible. Word gets out that our most famous war hero has gone missing and we're facing all manner of shitstorms, not least being a plummet in moral. We cannot afford to appear weak or incompetent. This makes us look both."

"All due respect, sir, a man's life is at stake here." Pike said grimly.

Before Marcus could retaliate, Uhura held up a hand. "Sirs, we're getting something. An incoming transmission. Location's unknown but-"

"On screen." Marcus said before Pike had a chance.

Moments later, they were looking at Sam Kirk's face as it was projected side long to Marcus'.

"Oh look, a captive audience. Wonderful. And how nice to see you, Admiral Marcus. It's been what, nearly thirteen years?" McCoy wondered if Sam had practiced how best to sound like a smug asshole or if it was just a natural talent.

"Where the hell is Jim you son of a bitch!" He found himself speaking before the words even computed in his head. Scott grabbed a hold of his arm, keeping him in his chair.

"That's enough, Doctor." Pike snapped at him.

McCoy snarled at Sam, ignoring the reprimand. "If you're hurt him I swear to god-"

"Your threats are as boring and uninspired as they are ineffective. Can we move on?" Sam yawned and McCoy's knuckles cracked with the urge to hit him again.

"We're all ears, son." Marcus said. "You want to tell me what exactly you're playing at?"

"I'd rather tell you a story, if that's okay with you?" Sam didn't wait for a response before launching on. "Once upon a time there were two little boys. They lost their father to a monster and their mother swore they would be prepared to avenge him. She taught them how to fight, how to think, how to win at any cost, and then she went and got herself killed as well. Sound familiar so far?"

There was true madness in his eyes as he looked at Pike in particular. "Just get to the point." The Admiral said.

Sam nodded agreeably. "In good time." He said. "Now the two little boys had a friend; an old woman who loved them and cared for them and who gave them all the things that mothers should give their sons. And they loved her." Sam's jaw tightened in silent rage. "And the old woman wrote to all her friends about the boys telling them how clever they were, how bright. And one of those old friends wrote back."

Sam's eyes rose to look at Marcus' image on screen. "He was an Admiral, and he was fighting a war that didn't even exist. And when the old woman told her friend about the little boys, he started to plot, and scheme, and devise ways to _ruin their fucking lives_." Sam's voice lost all the false pleasantness and dipped into something ice cold and full of hate. "And when the little boys lost their mother, he made sure they were kept close by, until the oldest of the boys was old enough to be useful. Then the Admiral said to the boy 'don't you want to find the people who killed your mother? Don't you want to be ready to hunt the monster who took your father?' and the boy wanted that more than anything."

That part of the story McCoy had not heard before. That part, not even Jim knew. Marcus' face betrayed nothing.

Sam's face had become a rictus of rage, twisted into something almost inhuman. "But the boy had a brother who wasn't yet useful to the Admiral. And he didn't want to leave him alone. And the Admiral promised the boy his brother would be safe. He _promised_. But his brother wasn't safe, and the boy didn't know. He went away to a school in the stars with other gifted children and he trained and he trained until he turned seventeen, and the Admiral said 'Now you can fight for me'."

McCoy swallowed down on the nausea building in his gut.

"The boy thought he would finally get the chance to right the wrongs the universe had done his family. The boy was naive. The boy was stupid. The day he left his school behind was the day the Admiral brought his brother from Earth, for he too was ready to become useful."

Tarsus, McCoy realized. Sam was talking about Tarsus. He glanced over to Riley, who was gray with the memories of it.

"Now this school in the stars was a special place. The Admiral and the Old Woman had founded it themselves and it was a place for only the very brightest, the very best. They hired another friend of theirs to run the school and he was an evil man. He dreamed of perfection and he tortured his students to get it. He was never satisfied, until the boy's brother arrived. The boy's brother was everything the evil man had ever wanted to create and he knew if he was careful, if he molded the brother, he could craft the perfect weapon."

_God, Jim. _McCoy felt sick.

"Then one day a famine struck the land the school was built on. And the evil man saw a chance to preserve the life of only his best and brightest, and to teach them all how the world should really work. He ordered the murder of more than half the people in the land, and he made his students watch as they were slaughtered like cattle."

"But the brother wanted nothing to do with the evil man's plans, for he was kind and innocent and brave. And so he defied the evil man and paid greatly for it." Sam's expression shifted to one of grief. "But the brother was clever. He sent a message out to the world, telling people what was happening up in the stars. And the brother was unlucky, for the message was found by the Admiral and the Old Woman, who wanted no one to know what their friend had done to the children, so they did _nothing_. While people were starving, while they were being hunted down and butchered by the thousands, they sat back and pretended that it wasn't happening. And so for months, the evil man went unchecked and no one came to save the boy's brother."

McCoy felt the tears on his face before he was conscious of them having fallen. He looked first to Pike, and then to Marcus, refusing to believe what Sam was telling him. He'd seen the pictures from Tarsus, he'd read the stories of the survivors, and worse, he'd seen the horrors of it reflected in Jim's eyes when he woke screaming. He could see his own revulsion and confusion reflected in the gazes of the rest of the crew. Even Spock looked shaken.

It couldn't be true. Starfleet hadn't known, that was the official story. Tarsus had been too far away, too isolated, and no one had known until it was too late.

But the truth of it was clear in the still, dispassionate face of Admiral Marcus.

Jim, at thirteen, caught in the middle of one of their century's most atrocious massacres and being groomed by its orchestrator… had called out for help and the very people he had now pledged his life to serve had turned their backs on him and left him to die.

"It's not true." Pike whispered. "We didn't know. No one knew." The words were more a plea than a confession. He looked at Marcus, "Tell me it's not true."

Marcus said nothing, his eyes fixed on Sam as he waited for the endgame. There was no benefit to be had in lying his way out of it now.

Sam smiled back mockingly. "Don't you want to hear the end of the story? Don't you want to hear how the boy, homesick for the school that had taught him so much, convinced his Commanding Officer to let him take his shore leave at the place he called home? Don't you want to hear about the death he found when he got there? About the friends and the people he loved whose bodies the evil man had strung up in the streets as warnings? About how he found his little brother naked and bloody and chained to a wall, brutalized and starved because he'd been caught sneaking food out to children whose parents had been butchered? Don't you want to hear how the brother sounded when he cringed from the boy's touch, terrified and traumatized and so weak he couldn't raise a hand to defend himself?"

Tears splashed down Sam's face as he snarled out every word without pity.

"No? Then maybe you want to hear how the boy swore he'd make those responsible pay. How he promised to never leave his brother alone again or how fucking _stupid_ he was for believing the Admiral when he claimed he'd known nothing about what had happened there?"

"But you did leave him. If you saved him then where the hell have you been?" Pike struggled to control the anguish in his voice, though his expression remained schooled.

Sam's gaze snapped from Marcus to him in a second, his lip curled back in a snarl. He dropped his broken fairy tale for the cold tones of reality. "I let him with the one person I thought I could trust. I left him there and I went to Marcus and I demanded justice for what had been done. Kodos couldn't just have vanished and I begged him to let me follow, to do what I'd been trained to do and hunt down the monsters. Jim was still in a coma. I was only supposed to have been gone for a few weeks. By the time he woke up, I could have given him Kodos' head. But I was never going to come back, was I Admiral? You made sure of it."

All eyes in the room turned to the holoscreen Marcus' image dominated. The Admiral's expression hadn't cracked throughout Sam's story.

Finally, he spoke. "Son, you spin one hell of a yarn. What exactly do you want from me? A confession? Yes, Sato came to me about you boys – she saw a lot of potential in you. Yes, we had been looking for a way to school gifted youngsters to the best of their potential; yes, you were one of them and damn right we recruited you as soon as we could. We'd have done the same to your brother. Yes, we put Kodos in charge and yes, the man turned out to be a homicidal maniac. Did we know what he was doing and did we chose not to act because it was in our best interests not to? Damn right we did and we'd do it again."

Marcus' expression matched Sam's for ugliness. "That school, you boys, represented a branch of Starfleet that doesn't officially exist so you're too damn right we weren't about to draw attention to what was going on out there. By the time the media found out what was happening damn near everyone was dead and those who survived were too messed up to talk about it."

McCoy's heart twisted in agony. "That doesn't exactly fit in with Starfleet's love all, serve all mentality, _sir_." The words sounded strangely polite through the ringing in his ears.

"It was a tough call. We made it." Marcus scowled at him. "We've done a lot more for a lot less to protect the interests of the Federation. That will not change. The program was scrapped anyway. Universal failures the lot of you. Too emotional, too driven by your personal vendettas to ever be any more effective than particularly vicious pitbulls." Marcus paused, considering. "Though I suppose your brother is the exception. He turned out to be pretty damn useful in the end. Maybe Kodos had the right thinking with him after all."

McCoy's rage was so encompassing, so white hot in its brilliance that he lost the ability to form words.

Marcus continued, uncaring of the reactions he was getting from Jim's crew. "Now son, are you done with this pathetic little charade? You didn't find the man who took your daddy, you couldn't capture the cell that executed your mother, you didn't even kill Kodos when you had the chance, and now I'm supposed to believe you're capable of avenging your brother's long lost honor?"

To McCoy's surprise and growing horror, Sam threw his head back and laughed. "You've failed to understand the point of all this. You're right about something though – Jim's better than I ever was. He doesn't need me to avenge him. I just needed you to say the words." He turned to look off screen and McCoy's heart froze in horror as he stepped to one side. "You've heard everything you need to, right little brother?"

Uhura was the one to vocalize a sob as Jim stepped into view. He looked terrible. Pale and bruised, sick, beaten. And his eyes were so cold, so utterly devoid of life. "Yeah," he said, his voice broken and rough. "I think I got it all."


	19. Chapter 19

Oh my god, I adore you guys. You saved me from an ice cream induced coma. I can't believe how well you responded to the last chapter! Thank you, seriously!

I am a little shocked by how many of you have warmed up to Sam! I'm pleased because I rather adore him myself, but he is still not A Nice Guy and this chapter probably won't endear him to anyone, least of all Jim.

Actually, speaking of Jim and those of you who have been waiting for the big confrontation between him and Sam….

(I'd thought that once I posted the last chapter my nerves would settle. Apparently not. Gulp.)

* * *

Jim could tell from the looks on everyone's faces that no one had expected him to appear when he did. He purposely didn't make eye contact with any one person, afraid he'd betray the thoughts and emotions that were racing through his mind.

He was proud of himself when he managed to speak without allowing his voice to break. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I need to have a word with my brother. Seems we have a lot to talk about." Jim said before reaching over and killing the feed that had connected them to his ship and to Marcus. No one stopped him. Why would they?

Hell, given that he was on this ship against his will, his 'captors' were being almost alarmingly attentive to him. He had a room that was almost as comfortable as his one on the _Enterprise_, they had provided him with clothes and a meal, the later of which he ate because Bones had enough to bitch at him about as it was.

He had felt…not quite human. Still dizzy more often than not, still confused, still trying to convince his body that actually, moving was a good thing. But given the circumstances, he could almost believe they didn't mean him any harm.

Joxer had been the one he'd spent most time with, waking up to find the big man sat at a chair close to his bed, his nose in a PADD. He'd been polite and as unintimidating as a man his size could hope to be when conversing with an abductee.

But there had been no sign of Sam. Or Tommy for that matter, and while he had been allowed to wander the ship as he pleased, he'd been discouraged from accessing any of the computer systems by a stern looking man with a rifle that suggested he was seriously overcompensating for something.

When he'd demanded to see Sam, they'd ignored him completely.

He'd been awake for eleven hours he estimated, when they finally took him to see his brother.

He'd been shown into what he could only assume was the communications hub of the CTC202 Stargazer Hybrid ship he had woken on. Sam had been at the console, imputing data into the mainframe at a speed Jim was only just capable of keeping up with. Sam had always been good with technology.

For the first time, Jim had been able to look at his brother without the veneer of drugs or pain clouding his vision. Sam looked… he looked like their dad. Jim could have laughed at the irony of it all. He'd been the one their mother had not been able to stand the sight of, but as he had grown his features had sharpened and refined into characteristics that were recognizably hers. Even his eyes, though the same blue of his father's, were the shape of Winona's.

Sam, from his broad, strong figure to his short honey blond hair, was the very image of George Kirk.

Jim had never grown up missing his father. How could he when he'd never met the man? But he had dreamed and wondered what it would be like, what their family would have been like, if George had never died. It wasn't a thought he had entertained often, but it came back sharp and sudden as had Sam caught sight of him and crossed the room to pull Jim into a bone-crushing hug.

He'd held Jim tight for almost a minute, mindless of Jim's less than enthusiastic participation. Then he'd hustled Jim over to sit at one side of the room. Jim didn't speak – he had no idea what to say and his usual habit of deflecting had all but deserted him.

Sam, however, seemed to have no such problem. 'I'll explain everything,' he promised. 'Just hang with me.'

Jim, exhausted, had been uncharacteristically obedient.

He watched in silence as his brother opened a connection to the _Enterprise_ and it cost him everything he had not to launch himself onto the screen and demand Spock come pick him up right the hell now. What was the point of being captain if you couldn't call in a ride when you needed one?

But from the looks of it, Spock was no longer in charge. Pike was there, his face grim and angry. Bones was there too, spitting threats and curses to match the cold fury written on the faces of Jim's crew.

Marcus was present as well. The less said about his dealings with Marcus the better. The guy freaked him the hell out. He'd always been a little too interested in Jim's life for comfort.

But Sam seemed happy enough to start what turned out to be the longest monologue Jim had ever been subjected to. It would have been funny if it wasn't his life Sam was laying out in vivid detail to all the people Jim respected and loved.

And for the life of him, he couldn't find the words to intervene. There were so many times when he could – have just stood up and cracked a joke or killed the connection or done anything but sit there like a pathetic child.

He'd stayed silent right until Marcus spoke the words Jim had long since feared were true.

_Maybe Kodos had the right thinking with him after all?_

Then Jim found his feet and his voice.

He spoke up, and had just enough to catch a glimpse of Bones' anguished face before the screen went black.

He nearly jumped when Sam placed a hesitant hand on shoulder. He forced back the natural urge to flinch and raised his eyes to meet his brother's gaze. Sam actually looked worried.

For a brief moment, Jim allowed himself to think back to that final day on Tarsus, trying to recall the face of the man who had carried him out of hell. He very rarely let his thoughts travel those paths in his mind, choosing instead to acknowledge their existence and brutally bury all relevant information under a mountain of other things – languages, equations, obscure bits of poetry…anything really.

Willingly letting his mind return there was not something he'd ever imagined himself doing. Needs fucking must, he guessed.

The memories came back as bright and fresh as if they were only hours old, not years – the downside to the eidetic memory he shared with his brother. Surprisingly it wasn't the pain or the fear of the hunger that stood out the most, but the crushing hopelessness. He'd forgotten what it felt like to actually be praying for death.

But even though he could taste the blood in his mouth and feel the hands on him as they gently freed him from his bonds, he couldn't manufacture memories that weren't there and Kodos had kept him in the dark for so long. He'd been too delirious to recognize his savior and from the first step back out into the daylight he'd been sobbing desperately from the pain that had flared up in his sensitive retinas.

He looked at the hand on his shoulder: big and rough, wide with strong fingers. Those could have been the hands that saved him but if he was entirely honest with himself they were also the kind of hands that had taught him what true courage really was – usually by beating it into him.

Not the absence of fear or even the mastery of it as Spock had concluded. No, courage was simply finding the endurance to hold on just a little bit longer than you thought you could.

That was the true root of James Kirk's legendary bravery. It probably wouldn't make the type of story people wanted to tell their kids.

Sam's hand tightened encouragingly on his shoulder and the sudden flare of terror made Jim feel sick. He made himself stop thinking, allowed the years of knowledge he had accumulated to come crushing down on the parts of him he hated and bury it all anew.

Maybe Sam had been the one to save him. It didn't really matter one way or another.

"Jimmy? You okay?" Sam asked, his voice full of concern. Jim said nothing.

Sam guided him over to a chair and gently helped him sit. His whole body ached and while he knew he was in no immediate danger from his injuries thanks to Bones, he wasn't actually as reckless as people liked to think. He needed to rest. He needed to finish up the course of antibiotics he'd been started on because even he knew you didn't mess around with things like that.

Bones would freak out if he ever found out, but right then Jim would have given anything to be back on his ship, stuffed into a biobed and kept under his friend's frustratingly sharp eye. He'd take one of the doctor's lectures. Hell, he'd even take one of Spock's disapproving frowns.

He just wanted to go home.

But since when did the universe actually give a shit what he wanted?

Sam was all but fretting around him, overcompensating for the fact that it was his fault Jim hurt in the first place. He'd been like that as a kid; always shoving Jim too hard then freaking out at the inevitable bumps and bruises it would cause. Didn't ever stop him the next time, though.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way." Sam said gently. He took a seat opposite Jim in the otherwise empty room. "Do…do you have any questions?"

Jim nodded sharply. "Yeah. Just the one." Sam nodded, waiting, and Jim raised his head, took a breath, and allowed his rage to break free. "Are you completely out of your fucking mind?"

Sam's jaw dropped. "What?"

Jim would have stood if he could but his legs had been uncooperative all day. "Your mind. Is it defective? Are you actually that goddamn stupid?"

Apparently he sounded like Bones when he was pissed. He should probably look at widening his social circle. Uhura had some great insults –they'd been aimed at him often enough.

Sam continued to gawp at him in genuine shock and that pissed Jim off even more.

What exactly was he supposed to do? Sam seemed to think there were only two options for him here: break down, or swear revenge.

If there were only two possible doors for him to go through, he'd sooner blow the damn wall to hell before he did anything as conventional as open one up and walk through it.

That had been one of the command classes back at the Academy. An instructor held a phaser to their heads and instructed them to do as they were told or die. He'd graded each student on their response.

Jim had broken his wrist and taken the phaser from him. That was the first time the 'no win scenario' had started carrying _his_ name attached instead of his father's.

The concern on Sam's face had slowly morphed to anger. Good. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you, asshole. You and your seriously defective brain. I didn't let Kodos use me as a weapon, and I haven't let Marcus. What the fuck makes you think I'd let you?" Jim spat, his fists clenched. It wasn't the time to start throwing punches. He needed to pick his battles more carefully than that.

Even being placed in the same category as the other two men made Sam flare to his feet in rage. Jim was ready. Sam had gotten his temper from their mom, and he'd honed it under Frank. Marcus hadn't been wrong when he said his brother was too angry, too self-motivated, to be a seriously effective member of 31. As always, Sam failed to see the bigger picture.

He was hauled out of his seat and had to force himself not to react. Instead his face twisted into a mocking smirk – the one guaranteed to piss off everyone from Pike to some drunken thug in a bar. It worked like a charm on Sam.

"Did you not just hear what he said?" Sam shook him hard and Jim had to force himself to focus on the spot over his brother's shoulder. "What he did?"

"I heard." Jim spat. "It was twelve years ago. Get the fuck over it."

Sam's rage shifted to something incredulous and Jim grabbed his chance.

He brought his head down hard, breaking his brother's nose.

Sam dropped like a stone. Jim had a hard skull, despite its currently fragile condition. That didn't stop his head exploding with pain, nor the small voice in his ear that sounded exactly like Bones from telling him he was a dumb ass moron.

He dropped to his knees and struggled not to vomit. The odds of the freshly glued surgical scar on his abdomen holding up to him loosing his lunch were not in his favor.

Sam was still down for the count but he was slowly coming around. Jim didn't have time to spare.

He struggled to his feet and latched on to the tracking co-ordinates of their vessel.

He didn't dare hail his ship. This wasn't going to end pleasantly, he knew that, and he didn't want his crew to have to witness it. They'd already heard all the dark horrible things in his past – no need to give them more to judge him for.

Opening a direct channel, Jim dragged all the information into a data packet and fired it into space. He didn't dare tag it as urgent and was relying on it being overlooked by Sam and his crew as one of thousands of random packets generated by a ships computer on an hourly basis.

And he was relying on Uhura finding it among the similar number of incoming transmissions her department received.

That done, Jim turned to misdirection to buy himself some time. He struggled forwards towards the door, knowing full well what would be waiting for him on the other side.

Endurance, he told himself. Just a little longer.

His crew would find him.

The door slid open and he came out swinging.

He took the first of the posted guards down from sheer surprise.

The second had more luck. It didn't take much to get Jim pinned down, but he refused to make it easy on them, despite his limitations. He just about held out, then reinforcements arrived.

He curled over to protect the healing incision as hands grabbed at him. They didn't follow through with the beating he'd half expected, but they bound his hands and hauled him roughly back into the room.

Dizzy from the blow to the head and aching from the rough handling, Jim couldn't keep himself from slumping over as he was dumped at Sam's feet.

This time he did recoil when Sam grabbed at him and he hated his brother for the genuine pain Jim could see in his eyes. "Why the hell did you do that, Jim?" Sam asked, his face a bloody mess and his fingers gently touching the bruise that had started to blossom on Jim's forehead.

Jim raised his chin defiantly. It was how he'd looked at Frank when his uncle had progressed from his fists to his belt, and it was how he'd looked at Kodos when he'd put a loaf of freshly baked bread just out of Jim's reach and told him he could have it, he just needed to pick a name off the list for the executioner's block.

"You murdered Hoshi. You sabotaged my ship and you threatened my crew." Jim was done. He'd have hit Sam again if he could have, but strong hands held him back. "I don't care what Marcus did. I don't even care about Kodos. But if you think for one second I will _ever_ be a part of this-"

"You will, Jimmy." Sam said softly. He still had his hands on Jim's face, inspecting the split skin and spreading bruise. "I promise you that. You'll join us or-"

"Or what?" Jim snarled. "You'll _make_ me? That's never worked out well for those who've tried in the past. But hey, maybe you have some tricks up your sleeve that Kodos didn't." Let it never be said that Jim didn't know how to go for the jugular. Spock wasn't the only person Jim had torn apart verbally. He'd done the same to both Pike and Bones in the past.

Sam recoiled from him violently. "Jimmy-" there were tears in his eyes again that might once have stirred Jim to feeling anything more than absolute numbness but now did nothing. "I would never hurt you."

"Then you're going to have to kill me." Jim stopped trying to struggle against the arms holding him back and met his brother's gaze straight on. "Because you know you can't keep me locked up forever, and there is no way in hell I will ever help you."

Sam shook his head sadly. "You're wrong on all counts there, little brother. I can do this without you if I have to, but I don't think you're going to want that." Sam looked to the men over his shoulder. "Take him back to his room. Make sure he stays there – do _not_ hurt him."

Hands pulled Jim back to his feet. He didn't resist as they dragged him away, nor did he give in to the clawing fear as Sam just stood there and watched.

His crew would find him. Endure. That was all he had to do. Just a little bit longer.


	20. Chapter 20

I'm late, I'm late! Sorry, sorry. I was being a bore and doing RL things.

The level of awesome you all inhabit is truly astonishing. Seriously. Thank you so much for your support and encouragement. I'm so glad everyone liked the last chapter. I agonized over it for the longest time and for all that I wanted a little woobie!jim, he stubbornly refused to be anything but an antagonistic brat.

To make up for the lack of woobie, the whump is about to skyrocket. Seriously, you ain't seen nothing yet. Mwaha. I mean, yes…

I'm actually super nervous about this part (again, I know…) because up until now Spock has been pretty much skirting the edge of the action. He actually skirts here as well, but I'm trying desperately to keep the characterization consistent with what we see in STID, which is a Spock who is still very messed up – to the point in which Bones genuinely believes he would let Jim die on Nibiru. So if his actions seem a little cold, hang with him. I promise there will be bonding eventually! STID!Jim does consider him a friend after all.

Geographically speaking, Tarsus wasn't actually all that far from Earth – thus shooting the whole 'they were too far away to help' thing out of the water (though technically Vulcan was closer…). For the sake of this fic I have moved it to between Risa and Regulus, right on the edge of the borderlands that make up the Neutral Zone. Purists, please forgive me.

I've been getting a lot of requests for various things so I thought I'd clarify what will be covered in future parts/stories, just so you know what's coming.

Kodos – will eventually make an appearance. Of sorts. In a way. Not in this fic, though.

Amok Time – Pon farr will play a part in a story I have planned out. I've been trying to get my head around a way it could work with nu!crew while delivering the maximum amount of manpain. I think I have it, but it might just be a complete disaster!

Jim/Spock/McCoy – their epic friendship is still developing and this will be a pretty major focus of the fic following this one. Jim has to go and die first just to get them all on the same page. Drama queen.

Jim's eating habits – I don't actually have a story planned for this, but his thoughts and the consequences of his time with Kodos should start to come together soon and hopefully explain this.

Klingons – will be on the starboard bough soon enough! In a fairly big way, actually.

Right, enough with the notes. Have some Bones. xx

* * *

Nyota hesitated in front of the doctor's quarters and had to actively work up the nerve to press the buzzer.

She was fairly convinced she wouldn't be welcome, not after what had transpired the night before.

Over a minute passed with no answer and if she hadn't known he'd been confined to quarters, she might have thought McCoy was on duty or in the commissary or any number of places she'd seen him with the captain.

She buzzed again. And again. For five minutes flat until the door opened and she found herself looking up into McCoy's irritated face.

He looked awful. He hadn't shaved in a few days and was the type of man who grew a five o'clock shadow by midday. His clothes were wrinkled and unclean and the only thing that actually looked like it could belong to the fastidiously neat and tidy doctor she knew was the perfectly applied support bandage wrapped around his right hand.

His unkind expression didn't shift when he recognized her. "What the hell do you want?" He demanded. She'd half expected him to have been drinking – knowing as she did that both he and Jim sometimes relief heavily on alcohol to cope – but he looked and sounded stone cold sober.

"To talk." She said softly. "Just to talk." She let some of the fear and vulnerability she felt show in both her face and her voice, ashamed to be manipulating him but at a complete loss as how else to try and break through his barriers.

Out of all of the senior crew, she knew McCoy the least well. They had encountered each other only briefly at the Academy – usually when they'd both been fishing Jim and Gaila out of one bar or another – and his prickly demeanor made him an intimidating man to try get to know.

She'd seen enough of his interactions with Kirk thought to know that aside from his permanent scowl, Leonard McCoy's biggest attribute was the size of his heart. His compassion was almost as extensive as his medical knowledge, and he felt things keenly, more so than anyone she'd ever met.

After the last few days, she could only imagine how badly he was hurting.

It was that knowledge that brought her to his door knowing that no matter how hot his rage might burn, someone really needed to be there for him.

"Can…can I come in?" She asked. He kept looking over her shoulder for someone and she shook her head reassuringly. "Spock doesn't know I'm here."

That seemed to appease him. He turned his back on her and returned to the darkness of his room. He didn't close the door behind him, so despite the lack of invitation, she followed.

A mug of warm tea was suddenly thrust into her hands and she couldn't help but smile. Apparently even angry southern gentlemen had rules about hospitality. She accepted it with a smile and let the warm drink fight off some of the ever-present chill she'd been feeling since she had left Jim down in the basement on Io. "Thank you."

McCoy grunted. He returned to his desk and sat down, a PADD dangling from his fingers.

She had no idea how to talk to him. She knew how to bring Spock out of his shell, even how to engage with Jim when she needed to, but McCoy was a mystery. She found herself asking the first thing that came to her mind, only to cringe as soon as the words were spoken. "How's your hand?"

McCoy didn't look up. "Two ruptured knuckles. Could be worse."

Considering how much force he'd put behind the blow to Spock's face, she was surprised he hadn't broken his entire hand. For a physician, he knew how to throw a decent right hook. He'd knocked Spock back a good few steps, something not even Jim had done, thought that might have been out of surprise than physical force.

"He didn't mean it how it sounded, you know." She said as gently as she could. Spock sometimes came across incredibly cold to people who didn't know him. Sometimes she didn't care, because if they didn't know him well enough to see the truth of it then they didn't matter. Sometimes, though, she needed to justify the words that came out of his mouth, even to herself.

That was enough to pull McCoy's attention from the PADD. His expression was as furious as it had been in the ready room. "Your boyfriend sat there and condoned the use of lethal force against his own damn captain. A man Spock calls his friend, and he's okay with hunting Jim like a rabid dog that needs to be put down."

Uhura couldn't really deny that it had sounded bad, even to her own ears. Jim's words before they had lost the connection with him had been disturbing enough that even Marcus had looked perturbed. He'd ordered an interstellar manhunt for both the brothers, stating that he wanted them alive, but also authorizing the use of lethal action if necessary. Jim's loyalties were once again in question and in light of everything Sam had reveled, Marcus was taking no chances.

Pike had immediately contradicted his orders as soon as Marcus had terminated his connection. They would find Jim and bring him home, no matter the cost. Spock, only doing his duty, had pointed out that the potential risk to life should Jim have joined forces with his brother was exponentially more serious given the knowledge he possessed.

He hadn't meant it the way it had sounded, but McCoy had been out of his seat and swinging before Spock could clarify or Uhura could defend him.

Scott and Sulu pulled him back and Pike had confined him to quarters. The punishment for attacking a senior officer should have been the brig, but McCoy could probably have gotten away with a lot more given the circumstances.

They were all compromised by the job at hand.

Uhura had been unable to sleep after Pike had dismissed them all, and had taken to wandering the hallways of the ship instead. Spock and Scott had ventured into Engineering in an attempt to ready the warp drive for a speedy trip wherever they might need to go.

Everywhere she went, Uhura met with the dazed, confused faces of the crew. They were lost without Jim and she had no idea how in the space of only a few short months, he'd become their guiding light.

The whole ship felt like it was pining for her captain. They needed Jim there with them, safe and smiling and ready to convince them they could do the impossible.

A year ago, Uhura would never have imagined it.

Hell, a week ago she would never have believed she could care for Jim as much as she did. She had respected him as an officer, even stared to warm to him as a companion, but the burning protectiveness she had developed was strange and new. Jim had never once struck her as the kind of man who needed protecting from anything.

Now she knew that was simply because no one ever had.

So she had wandered, haunted by Kirk's blue eyes. They shifted, from the pleading desperation he'd worn as his brother had executed Sato, to the blank, dead look he'd leveled at them all over the comm.

And then there was the ghost of a child she'd catch a glimpse of, tortured and terrified.

And she knew she wasn't the only one.

Sulu had taken Riley down to the gym to break things. Chekov has stopped speaking any language she could follow and uttered only strings of equations to himself before shaking his head and starting afresh.

And McCoy looked like he was slowly bleeding to death from the gaping hole where his heart had once been.

She wanted desperately to reassure him but couldn't bare the thought of lying. "We'll find him." She promised. They would, she had no doubt. But if it was in time…

"You know why he calls me Bones?" McCoy asked bleakly. She shook her head. It had been something she'd wondered for a while.

"I don't either." McCoy admitted. "Every time I asked he'd change his answer. I stopped caring after a while. Just became who I was. Bones." He looked up at her, tears in his eyes and his expression a mask of pain. "I knew about Tarsus. I knew about Frank. I just never…" he shook his head brokenly. "Who does that to a child? To Jim? He's just a boy."

Mankind's capacity for cruelty would never fail to horrify her. Society was supposed to have moved on from such atrocities. Earth was united, crime virtually nonexistent, and yet there was no changing human nature. Not really.

"He survived it." Uhura reassured him. "I don't know how, I can't imagine how strong he must be, but he made it through. I believe he'll make it through this as well. We will find him, and we will bring him home."

"That's not what I'm worried about." McCoy rubbed his hand over his tired eyes. He looked exhausted. "I know we'll find him."

"You're worried this will break him." She nodded.

"I don't think he's ever been whole in the first place." McCoy admitted. He turned his attention back to the PADD and seemed to forget she was even in the room with him.

Uhura clutched her tea tighter. There wasn't any more she could really say.

* * *

Pike called them all in for a review first thing the following morning. Uhura had dozed off on the edge of McCoy's bed and woken after barely an hour's rest. She didn't think he had moved at all – hunched over the PADD in his hands, waiting. Kirk was too far out of range for his vitals the nanites McCoy had injected him with to register, but he watched none the less, just in case.

He had also been called in by Pike and had trudged along after her, bumping into several crew members on the way. No one had called him on it.

"You going to cause me problems, McCoy?" Pike asked. He too looked like he'd gone without sleep, but his expression was solid and steely.

"No sir," McCoy shook his head. He looked over to Spock, who had paused in the doorway moments earlier. "I'm sorry I hit you." The apology actually sounded genuine, which surprised her.

Spock inclined his head in response. "And I apologize if my words caused you pain. That was not my intention."

McCoy grunted and took his seat, clearly not wanting to draw out the conversation any more than necessary. Nyota smiled over a Spock, proud of him for shelving his pride. For all that he and Jim clashed, there really was no love loss at all between he and McCoy at all.

Pike looked pleased by the progress as the rest of the room filled. "It's been a tough few days for everyone and I can't imagine that changing until we get Jim back with us. That's only going to happen if we all work together. Remember the bigger picture here."

Uhura looked around at the determined faces surrounding the large table. If anyone could find Jim, it was the men sitting with her now.

Pike took a seat and nodded. "How are we doing?"

"Right now my calculations lead me to bewiewe that the ship ze keptain is on is headed to ze Briar Patch Nebula, though its exact destination is still uncertain."

"That's pretty close to the Neutral Zone." Sulu frowned. "Should we be worried?"

"They've got themselves a Federation war hero and a lump of dilithium big enough to decimate a small planet." Pike pointed out darkly. "I think we worry either way. Anything else, Ensign?"

"Nyet, sir." Chekov looked sorrowful. "Though based on my projections, at ze speed they are trawelling it is unlikely that they are on anything faster than, say, a small cruiser. Stargazer class, no more."

Pike nodded. "That's good. Solid work. See if you can get us a register of every Stargazer class hybrid entering range of Io in the last week. They had to get into the symposium some how." Chekov nodded at the instructions. He might once have cracked a smile at the praise but he did not seem satisfied with the lack of information.

They continued around the circle, reporting on each department's progress. There was precious little. It was wholly disheartening and eventually Pike sighed. He rubbed his hand over his face, then turned to Kevin Riley, who up until that moment had been silent. "Ensign, please understand that I would never willingly put you in this situation, but needs must."

Riley swallowed and nodded. "What can I do?"

"Tell us about Thomas Leighton."

The room collectively caught its breath. They'd all struggled with the knowledge of a man they had trusted betraying them, especially in the light of the relationship he shared with Jim.

No one more so than Riley, who shuddered at the request. "What exactly do you want to know?"

"Anything you can tell us." Pike said. His expression was unemotional, but his voice surprisingly gentle.

Riley nodded shakily, reminding Uhura that he was only a few years older than Chekov. "Tommy was at school with Jim. On Tarsus."

"You were born there?" Pike pushed.

Riley nodded. "Yes sir. I was seven when the famine struck. My whole family was listed for execution. I only escaped because Jim found me and hid me. He and Tommy were the only ones who tried to help us. The rest of Kodos' kids were all too scared."

"Not Jim." Uhura smiled sadly, remembering the encouragement Jim had given her when they had been trapped after the explosion. His bravery seemed to have no limit.

Riley shook his head. "Not Jim. I thought he was a superhero. He told us jokes and brought us food. He tried to cheer us up. Tommy never did that. Kodos killed his parents and when he tried to protect them he dug out his eye as punishment. Jim never defied him outright. Not at first, anyway."

Uhura could only imagine how Jim would have manipulated the situation as best he could. As an adult, most people took one look at him and wrote him off as a pretty boy with no brains and no future. It must have been even more so for him as a teenager.

"Where was Tommy when you were rescued?" Pike asked.

Riley shook his head. "I don't know. Jim got caught sneaking us food about a month before the first ships arrived. Tommy looked after us for a couple of weeks, but then just vanished. We all assumed he'd been killed."

"No bloody luck there." Scott had taken Leighton's betrayal harder than the rest of them.

Riley ignored the comment. "I saw him again after we were brought to Earth. Jim too, thought they wouldn't let us speak to him. He was really bad. They kept him in hospital for a long time."

"Three months." Pike said quietly.

Uhura bit her lip, holding back the hateful curses building in her head. McCoy had it right. Who the hell could purposely hurt a child so horrifically he needed months of hospitalization to recover?

Riley simply nodded. "Tommy was fifteen by that point. I was put into adoption but he went straight into one of the Academy's feeder schools. I didn't see him again until after I enlisted."

"Can we assume Admiral Marcus was behind that?" Spock asked Pike.

Pike only shook his head. "I can't think of any other reason why Starfleet would have taken him on without Marcus signing off on his papers. Not so soon after something so traumatic."

"Did he sign off on Jim's" McCoy asked, speaking up for the first time since the meeting had begun.

Pike nodded.

"Bastard." McCoy swore. "Goddamn bastard."

Pike didn't reprimand him, which said everything about how he felt.

"At the risk of raising an unpopular opinion," everyone turned to look at Sulu, "and not condoning any of his actions, do we have any idea where Sam Kirk has been for the last twelve years? Is Marcus behind that as well? Where did you say you found Kirk's body again?"

"Deneva." Pike supplied.

"That's a science facility, isn't it?" Sulu asked.

"It's a biochemical research facility specializing in cutting edge frontline development." McCoy supplied. "It's where they manufactured that damn glue they used on Jim."

"It's also where they are developing quadro-triticale." Riley added helpfully. "It's a genetically enhanced grain. Supposed to reduce the likelihood of crop failures by 89%." He sighed then added. "Jim owns the patent."

"The captain developed a genetically superior strand of wheat?" Spock queried in shock. Uhura could sympathize.

"One that reduces the possibility of famine." McCoy concluded grimly. "Damnit Jim."

"You didn't know?" Pike looked surprised.

McCoy shrugged. "Have you tried keeping track of the project that kid goes through?"

"Wait," Uhura frowned, drawing all their attention. "If Jim owns the patent, wouldn't he have met with the scientists?"

"You think he went to Deneva?" Pike asked her.

She shrugged. "Would there be any way of finding out?"

All eyes turned to McCoy, who threw his hands up in exasperation. "I'm not his damn keeper! Sometimes he'd pack up and vanish for a weekend. Sometimes I would too. If he wanted to talk about it, he would."

"So what exactly does that mean?" Sulu wanted to know.

He wasn't the only one.

"It means, lad." Scott put in grimly, "that we better bloody find Jim Kirk, before we find out what else we dunae know about him."


	21. Chapter 21

So another short part, sorry. But they, the last few have been longer!

I know you've been wanting to go back to Jim, but he's up next. This part is mainly to set up the whump to follow!

There seemed to be some confusion in the last part as to the Deneva references. Earlier in the story, when both Pike and McCoy presumed Sam dead, I mentioned that Sam's 'body' had been found on Deneva before being cremated. That's all the reference is in regards to and I promise I will answer that point in the next few parts. It's also a nod to TOS in which Sam was a nice, non homicidal researcher on Deneva with a wife and a kid (who were also not crazy).

(And to the reviewer who asked about the Risan stripper incident…. that will actually be explained in this fic and will totally go in McCoy's bag of blackmail material.)

Cliffhanger ahoy!

Enjoy!

* * *

Starship doors did not slam open, they slid smoothly and at a preprogrammed speed. As Thomas stormed into Sam's quarters, however, Sam the distinct impression that if the former Starfleet officer could have slammed it, the whole door would have rattled in its frame.

"Please," Sam said dryly, "come on in."It wasn't like they were at a critical, not to mention highly dangerous stage of proceedings and he needed to pay full attention to the job at hand.

"You want to tell me why Jim's under armed guard?" Thomas demanded angrily. He'd changed out of his uniform and was almost unrecognizable in plain civilian clothes.

Sam went back to the console he was sat at, in no mood for anyone's drama. Is head pounded thanks to Jim's theatrics and his temper was frayed. "Because he's my brother and he's a sneaky bastard." Sam clarified. 'Because according to the file _you_ provided on him, he staged a coup in the middle of his Command SERE training and broke out the entire cadet class." That Sam would have killed to see. "And because he's being a stubborn bastard who should know better but apparently doesn't."

Without waiting for an invitation, Thomas sighed and dragged a chair over to the desk before dropping down into it wearily. "I told you he wouldn't want anything to do with us."

"You also told me he'd being going to the seminar by himself." Sam pointed out irritably.

Thomas shrugged without remorse. "I heard Uhura talking to Rand. Jim denied her visitation request. How was I supposed to know he wanted to take her himself?"

"Oh you weren't. just like I wasn't supposed to guess that Jim would be such a pain in the ass." Sam snapped.

"I did warn you." Thomas held up his hands defensively. "He hasn't tried anything though."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Just because he's being meek and docile doesn't mean a damn thing. First chance he sees, he's making a run for it."

Thomas' expression soured. "I don't think he'll want to run very far when he knows where we've landed." He shuddered as if suddenly cold.

"You ever been back?" Sam asked, eying Thomas carefully.

He shook his head quickly. "No. Not since you found us."

"It gonna be a problem?" Sam was going to have enough on his hands once Jim figured out where they were. The last thing he needed to worry about was Thomas as well. One meltdown was going to be distracting enough.

"No." Thomas said flatly. "It won't be a problem." But he hesitated none the less. "Jim…you wont hurt him?"

When all this had started, saving Jim had been as much his priority as making Marcus pay. Eventually the two had combined and now it was impossible to say where one goal ended and the other began. One thing was for sure though, this was going to be the hardest thing Sam had ever done in his life.

And when it worked – because it would – he would never forgive himself for doing what was necessary.

He met Thomas' eyes sadly, his anger ebbing away with the knowledge of what he was about to do. "Sometimes hurting someone is the only way you can save them."

He'd known it was bad from the minute he'd seen Jim boarding the Earth bound shuttle on Deneva, clean and polished and sparkling in his cadet reds. Getting him out of Starfleet's hands was never going to be easy, but even he'd not been able to anticipate the depth of Marcus' control over his brother.

His buzzer chimmed. "Enter." The door slid open, Joxer standing calmly on the other side. "The Klingon ship entered the atmosphere three minutes ago." He reported calmly.

Sam nodded and rose to his feet. "Good. Fetch my brother. We're going down to the surface. We landed in the Jascar Province?"

"Yes. Half a click from where we found planet might be deserted but the Vulcans who were here last completely tore down the spaceport. Mags put us down just outside of town." Joxer looked mildly disapproving but it was nothing compared to the alarm that spread across Thomas' face.

"You can't seriously be thinking about taking him back there." He exclaimed in horror.

"He needs to remember." The teenager that had survived what Kodos had done to him would have jumped in the chance Sam was offering him. That was what he needed, not this golden mask of righteousness Jim was wearing. He needed the wolf beneath the sheep's clothing and he knew exactly how to get it. He looked once more to Joxer. "Tell your team to be prepared. We're knocking on a door and asking a dangerous man to come out and play."

Joxer nodded and left.

"Sam, think about this." Thomas pleaded. "He'll never forgive you."

"I don't need him to forgive me." Sam knew he'd lost out on the chance to ever have Jim's love. He'd resigned himself to that the moment he'd ordered Sato's death. He just needed to focus on the bigger picture and it would be worth it.

He left for the hanger, Thomas hot on his heels. Sam didn't have the time to be dealing with his cold feet so picked up his pace.

"And what if it doesn't work? What if you still can't convince him? The whole deal goes south and we're stuck on a quarantined planet with illegal dilithium crystal and a stolen shuttle. Not to mention the fact that we kidnapped a Federation wide icon – and we'll have a ship full of angry Klingons to deal with." Thomas called after him.

The reached the hanger and the rest of his crew was waiting, backs straight with anticipation. The hanger door opened as Joxer and Cali dragged Jim down from his room. They'd left him bound, and for all that Jim was dragging his heels his brother looked incredibly bored.

Sam swallowed grimly. "I've spent ten years rotting in a Federation prison with nothing to think of but this." He snarled quietly to Thomas. "Have a little faith, or I'll out you down there with Jim. I seem to recall you having problems with small spaces." Thomas had been useful to get to Jim, but he'd all but served his purprose and Sam had little patience left.

Thomas' living eye flashed furiously, his face turning white with rage and fear. His nerve gone, he settled back on his heels and refused to look in Jim's direction.

Jim returned the gesture, not looking at Sam either. His eyes were fixed curiously on the arid land just visible through the open doors of the hanger.

Sam knew Jim hadn't recognized their location yet.

He would.

Signaling everyone to move out, Sam kept half an eye on his brother and half on the sky.

He hesitated only for a second, then stepped out onto the dry, dead ground of Tarsus IV.


	22. Chapter 22

It took Jim longer than it should have to recognize where he was being taken.

In his defense, he would never in a million years have dreamed that he'd be back. He'd always told himself that the only way he'd ever lay sight on Tarsus again would be if he was following orders to blow the whole planet to hell.

With hands firm on his elbows, Jim had no choice but to follow the grim march at the pace set by his brother. He forced his legs to move as instructed, knowing instinctively that there was no getting out of the trip. He didn't want to suffer either the indignity or pain of being carried.

The first step out onto the dusty, arid planet could have been the first step onto any number of planets, and the ruins of the city ahead could have been anywhere.

The tingle of fear that crept up on him meant nothing. He was overreacting. He was tired and stressed and still probably riding Bones' happy drugs and there was no way they were where Jim started to fear they were.

Sam wouldn't do this to him. No part of the brother he'd once idolized could ever be so willfully, maliciously, cruel.

Jim tripped over his feet as numbness started to seep into his bones. Joxer shouldered more of his weight and leaned in close to whisper to him. "It will be easier for you if you let him have what he wants."

Jim's eyes were fixed on the horizon and the large stone archway that loomed in the distance. The last time he'd seen it, a whole family had been strung up there and left to die in the unforgiving heat. Jim had been able to hear the little boy's pleas for help in his sleep for years.

"What does he want?" Jim choked, his eyes moving over to the main road into the city – a road that had once been lined with piles of corpses, flesh rotting and crawling with vermin. The few animals that hadn't been slaughtered for food had themselves been starving and they had made feasts out of the dead flesh of the colonists.

Jim stumbled again. This time Joxer barely caught him. Up ahead, Sam didn't look back.

"You, by his side." Joxer responded softly, but after a hesitation, he added, "or maybe just to see the universe match the hell that's in his head. I am no longer certain."

Jim might have been able to form an answer but for the sudden veer in the road that they took.

Standing in the ruins of a once vibrant city, the large, classically designed building that had once been his best hope for the future stood as a silent sentinel on all the horrors that had destroyed it.

Before Tarsus, Jim had only been to one school. He'd hated it. Upon arrival in Riverside, Frank had enrolled both him and Sam in the local school. The novelty of learning with children his own age had not lasted beyond the first period. Jim had never before recognized how surprisingly unremarkable his peers seemed to be. They accepted spoonfed information without any interest in why things were what they were told they were. They didn't seem to be able to perform more than one set task at a time and even the most rudimentary of skills he possessed were considered advanced levels within the rigid structure of the schooling system.

By the end of the first week, Jim had made one teacher cry and been put in detention by another two. Wholly bored, he'd found his own fun, mostly in ways that had gotten him into even more trouble. He tried to behave, tried to fit in, and though he was liked by most of his teachers, they openly admitted that they had no idea how to teach him anything.

It had been because of school that Frank had first found an excuse to hit him. There were others, up to and including Jim breathing too loud, but that first time had left a deep and resounding dislike for institutionalized schooling. He didn't get any benefit from it and it had led to the first in a long line of hurts.

When Hoshi had told him about the school on Tarsus, he'd not been in the least bit interested. He hadn't been interested in much at all, in fairness. He'd heard word that Chris had been trying to adopt him and he'd wanted it as much as he'd feared it. He'd wanted to seek comfort from the man who called Jim out on his bad behavior in the same breath as praising his talents. He'd simply been too afraid. Everyone he loved left him one way or another, so why get too attached to Chris? And what if he turned out to be like Frank? Jim hadn't been able to imagine Chris as the kind of man who would storm into his bedroom in the middle of the night, but then he'd once have said the same about Frank.

When Chris failed, Jim told himself it was for the best.

His first day on Tarsus, Kodos had taught him an important lesson. He'd taken Jim into his office, locked the door behind him and told Jim to undress.

Jim hadn't been aware of lashing out until a good twenty minutes later when he finally calmed down and Kodos smiled at him in pride. _"You are not a victim, James Kirk."_ He had said, unlike everything he'd been told by the police, the counselors, even Chris, "_When bad things happen we can either let them break us, or use them to make us stronger. I am going to make you strong, James."_

And he did. He put Jim in a class with six other boys and girls and for the first time in his life, Jim had to actually work to get the top grades. And work he did, because worse than the personal blow to his ego was the disappointment on Kodos' face if Jim failed to excel.

In that school, Jim learned how to channel himself into anything he wanted to do.

In that school, Jim had learned how to use all the things he'd thought bad about himself to his advantage. He'd learned how to lie, to cheat, to manipulate.

And Kodos had praised him every step of the way.

It was, in a way, both his heaven and his hell. For a while, he'd been happy there. Happier than he'd ever been before or since, but all those memories of excitement and satisfaction and pride had long since been seeped through with blood.

And even after twelve years, it looked exactly like Jim remembered it.

Jim dug his heels into the earth. He wasn't going back in there.

"Sam." Jim called out to his brother. Sam wouldn't make him. He wouldn't. not if he really was the person who had rescued him. He wouldn't put Jim back in there. He couldn't. "Sam, what are you doing?"

"What's necessary." Sam called back. "I'm sorry Jim, I really am. You left me with no choice. This is going to hurt me as much as it will you, I promise you that."

But not once did Sam turn back and look at him.

"I am sorry for this." Joxer said, his grip tightening on Jim's arm. Jim brought his knee up into the man's groin in answer.

In the end, it took five of them to drag him over the threshold and another two to get him all the way down to the basement where the building's maintenance systems had been housed.

But as the wall of stale, damp air hit him from beyond the open door, all of Jim's ability to fight fled him in a rush. His knees sagged and his vision grayed.

* * *

He must have blacked out because one minute he was fighting against hands dragging him down into hell and the next he was already there, bound with chains that still bore the stains of his blood from years ago. They'd been made for wrists smaller than an adults and fresh blood already made them slick against his skin.

Just out of reach, Sam watched him grimly.

"Please." Jim choked, nausea welling in his gut. "Please don't leave me down here."

Sam said nothing. He turned his back on Jim and began to climb the stairs. There was only a small strip of light from the open doorway and Jim knew exactly what lived in the dark just beyond his sight. He hugged his knees closer, the chains rattling and the sound triggering flashes of raw panic.

The door slid closed silently, robbing him of that precious light.

The mountains of knowledge in his head shifted as the memories they buried rose with a violent surge of pure fear. With nothing to hold them back, Jim struggled to remember his own name amid the emotions and images that were quickly overwhelming him.

Huddled in the dark in the same room he'd once been left to slowly starve to death, Jim lasted only three minutes before he started to scream.


	23. Chapter 23

So I think the resounding conclusion from the last chapter was: _Dear Sam, you suck. _

I still can't believe how wonderfully supportive you are! Thank you for making this an absolute delight to work on! We're nearly there now. Just 4 (including this one) more chapters to go! Those of you who don't believe I can tie up all the loose ends in 4 parts…you'd be right. Some things are going to run over into the next story – mainly Jim and the giant therapy bills he should be running up. The goal has always been to get the characters in gear for STID then pick up right after that and run with them. I personally felt Jim at the start of STID was much more like the Jim we met in the bar with Uhura than the Jim who had just become captain and I felt the need to justify that devolving of his character in a Totally Dramatic Way.

That being said, Sam's EPIC PLAN (of complete stupidfaceness) will all be wrapped up in the next few parts. I'm just not telling how!

Also, just a heads up, there is a slight inconsistency between this part and the final chapter of _Genesis_, in which Riley implies that both he and Tommy were on the Enterprise during the Nero incident. In order to make the plot work properly, I had to make a little tweak and it will be rectified when I finally get around to posting the revamped version!

* * *

It was hard, sometimes, to look back on your life and know exactly where everything had gone wrong.

Thomas Leighton didn't have that problem. He knew exactly when it was, and it wasn't when most people would have guessed.

It wasn't when Kodos had executed his parents and it wasn't when he'd been held down and his eye had been dug out of its socket and given back to him as a souvenir.

It was shortly after, when he'd looked into the face of Jim Kirk and not believed him capable of working miracles.

Tommy had never been like Jim. He'd been accepted into the school because he was naturally brilliant, but he'd never once bought into the community of gifted children the way he'd been supposed to. It had been clear right from the very start that Jim was the one they were all supposed to aspire to and while the boy had possessed a phenomenal intelligence, Tommy had never really understood what had made him stand out as special. He'd been small and skinny, his eyes too big for his face and with a mop of blonde hair that had a will of its own. He'd jumped at his own shadow and whimpered in his sleep. Not the type of person Kodos had billed as the next great general.

But it had been Jim who had braved Kodos' temper to help Tommy after they'd maimed him. Jim, who had tended his wounds and begged Kodos for the medicine to fight off infection. Small, quiet, unassuming little Jim. Tommy hadn't believed him capable of such compassion.

Just as he hadn't been able to get his head around the idea of Jim sneaking out every night with his own rations packed safely away to be distributed among a group of starving children. Jim, like the rest of them, had no need to go without food. So long as they stayed in line, they were well cared for.

Tommy had tried to convince Jim that the risk wasn't worth it – that those children would die anyway. Jim had paid him no attention and carried on, the risks growing ever more dangerous the longer he continued.

When he'd finally been caught, Kodos had been beyond furious. Jim had been his favorite and to be openly defied had crippled the circle of perfection he had attempted to surround himself with. When Jim refused to beg for forgiveness or even acknowledge his crime, Kodos had practically beaten him to death himself.

Tommy would never forget the day that Jim, who out of all of them could have most easily have avoided the horrors they were all witnessing, stared Kodos down and announced that his life was no more precious than any other.

Tommy had watched in horrified awe as the same skinny kid who had surprised him so many times defied a man he had once idolized and had refused to bend, break or even sway.

Kodos had kept Jim alive, convinced he could overcome Jim's stubbornness and with every day that passed, Tommy had been able to think of nothing but the children Jim would die trying to defend.

And somehow, he'd found the courage he'd always been lacking. He smuggled his rations out of the school and into the waiting arms of Jim's kids. He'd personally fed small chunks of bread to a trembling little boy of seven years and he'd lied to them all when they'd asked about Jim.

The longer Jim stayed alive and insubordinate, the more Tommy's courage grew.

Jim would have died defiant and Tommy would have stayed brave, but one day Kodos returned triumphant. Jim had broken and Tommy's courage shattered.

He stopped going to the children. Three of them died because of it.

Their rescue arrived soon after. Tommy had seen Jim just the once before he'd been released into care of the state. He'd not been able to bring himself to say a word to him, knowing what his cowardice had cost.

After he'd been taken to Earth, Tommy had been approached by a man with dark hair and steel colored eyes. Captain Jackson had known all that he was capable of and had encouraged him to put it to good use. Starfleet had seemed a reasonable option at the time. He was an angry teenager with a very specific skillset. From the Academy, he'd been recruited directly into Section 31. He fit their criteria perfectly – above average intelligence, unremarkable appearance and no family who would question the circumstances of his death should they prove…unusual.

He'd excelled and Jackson had allowed him to pursue his own professional development, which was why he had a doctorate in applied warp technologies.

For the most part, he'd gone where Jackson told him, done as ordered and not stayed too long after. Join Starfleet – see the universe. He'd done that. Twice.

Until one day he'd finished a mission and returned to chaos. Vulcan was gone, half the fleet destroyed, and Jim Kirk's face was staring out at him from every holo.

Sam Kirk had found him only a day before Jackson had given him his next mission. Fortunately, they'd aligned perfectly.

Jackson wanted eyes on the Enterprise. Sam wanted the same.

Jackson offered no reward or even thanks for his service. Sam offered him the truth of what had happened all those years ago.

Learning that he now served the very people responsible for the murder of his parents had not gone down particularly well. He'd jumped ship. Literally.

And it was hell.

Jim recognized him, instantly latched on to their old friendship and brought him right in to the heart of his command team, just as Jackson and Sam had hoped. He'd fed Jackson very little useful information. He'd given Sam everything.

Jim didn't know. Jim didn't even acknowledge that he'd played any part in Tarsus' history at all and was completely in the dark about Starfleet's involvement. He was there, end of story. Tommy knew better and had felt like a fraud. There had been another Tarsus survivor on board – one of Jim's kids, and he was as afraid of Jim learning that Kevin Riley had nearly died because of him as he was anyone finding out he served two masters.

It was that fear, that pathetic cowardice, that had led him to where he was now. Failing Jim once again.

Helping Sam should have been a means to an end. To repaying the pain Starfleet had inflicted on them all, and saving Jim from their manipulations. That was all.

It wasn't supposed to be this. He wasn't supposed to be standing guard on the spot he had once haunted like a ghost, listening to the bravest, kindest man he had ever known scream in terror below him.

He was supposed to be making things right with Jim, not making them worse.

But if Sam had ever been playing from the same book then he clearly no longer was. He'd not counted on so many things; on Jim being hurt at the symposium, on his crew being so loyally protective, on Jim himself being a stubborn bastard. He was scrabbling now to keep one step ahead and Tommy knew instinctively that he was going to lose his grasp on everything.

That was the first rule of combat: always be the smartest person on the field. He might have been before they went into action, but Jim had been Kodos' favorite for a reason. He was in a whole league of his own.

"Fortitude, Thomas." Of all Sam's team, Tommy liked Joxer the most. He'd spent very little time in their company, but Sam's second in command was a man of deep and genuine honor. He looked as unhappy with their situation as Tommy was himself, but while he would counsel and advise Sam, he would never defy him. He'd sworn his loyalty to the unit even before Sam had led it. His own feelings would not change that.

Tommy however, had proved many times that his allegiances were a fluid thing. "This isn't right."

"It is not." Joxer agreed. "But it is what it is."

"I thought we were supposed to be saving Jim, not torturing him." Tommy said disgustedly. He'd not seen what had been done to Jim while he'd been in Kodos' custody, nor had he seen the basement in which he'd been kept. But for Jim to be screaming the way he was…

"Saving his brother could never be Sam's priority." Joxer shook his head. "Not while Marcus lives. Revenge leaves no room for love."

"Then why are you here? Why are you even doing this?" Tommy understood his own motives, even if he was questioning them now, but he was at a loss as to how Sam kept the fierce loyalty of his team when he was clearly unstable enough to inflict such pain on his own blood.

Joxer looked sad. Old and tired and remarkably the way Tommy felt. "I was on the first ship that landed here." He looked off into the distance, his mind turning to the past. "I was with Sam when he found his brother. I carried that child from this place of death. I stood by Sam's side as we demanded answers for all that had transpired." Tommy blinked in shock. He had never known that. "We all were." Then Joxer's expression set into something hard and unkind. "And the reward for our efforts was a one way ticket to Hutet."

"I know that." Working for Section 31 brought about a fair number of perks but it also came with some pretty stringent catches. As their lives revolved around secrets, the harshest punishments were reserved for the breaking of silence. An agent of Section 31 could, without trial or appeal, be incarcerated for as long as was considered necessary. Hutet was a prison labor camp deep in the Cardassian system. No one had ever been able or willing to confirm that Federation citizens were imprisoned there, but the rumors had been a poorly kept secret within the ranks of 31. Fuck up, it was said, and spend the rest of your life in chains. Sam had told him as much when he'd run the recruitment spiel. "And I know that he protected you all while you were there. I get it." And he did. There were not many ways Sam was like Jim, but that was one of them: he would fight to the death for you if he considered you one of his own. "But what we are doing right now is as bad as anything Marcus ever did. We are torturing an innocent man."

"My brother has no innocence." Tommy jumped in surprise and cursed his unawareness. There were not many people who could sneak up on him, but Sam was one of them. "He lost that to Kodos years ago."

Before Tommy could answer, Sam cocked his head to one side. Tommy listened. There was nothing but silence. Jim had stopped screaming. "We should check on him."

"Later." Sam said distractedly. "The Klingons have landed. They'll be here any minute."

"It's Kor's ship?" Joxer confirmed.

Sam nodded. "The bastard had to be on time for something I guess."

"Cali has the dilithium ready." Joxer knew what would happen in a level of detail that far exceeded what Tommy knew. When he'd asked what Sam wanted the dilithium for he had been told only that it was an aspect of negotiation. Based on his own knowledge, he surmised that Sam intended to trade it to the Klingons, who would be able to reverse engineer a warp core to the exact specification of the _Enterprise_. As the Federation's fastest ship, she far outclassed even the most agile of the Klingon fleet. It would have been easier to simply give them the specs, but the core of the _Enterprise_ had been designed and cut to such a specific specification that it was the most expensive component on a twelve billion credit starship.

An aspect of negotiation indeed, but what Sam wanted in return even Tommy didn't know.

"Do you know the Klingon?" Tommy asked, finding it strange that they were dealing with one name specifically.

"Kor?" Sam asked, still half listening to the silence. "Kor is the reason no one knew what was happening on Tarsus. He attacked the one vessel due to land on the planet for months and so it never arrived. He owes us for that."

"Shall we?" Joxer asked, signaling them to move. Sam nodded and Joxer turned –

-right into the metal pole swinging from Jim's bloody hands.

Tommy's surprise was no less visual than Sam's. His jaw dropped open in shock as he looked Jim up and down, flinching at the cold, furious look in his captain's eyes.

"So here's the thing." Jim said grimly. "I'm not thirteen years old any more."


	24. Chapter 24

So this chapter was angsted over more than any other. More than Hoshi, more than the rescue, more than Sam's Super Villain Monologue… I know everyone wants lots of Jim&Bones(&maybePike&everyoneelse) snuggliness… and there is some. The comfort is on the way I promise, but I will warn you now: those wanting or expecting Jim to cry and flail and sob his heart out on Bones' shoulder…ain't gonna happen. Not in this story. There will be Feels. Lots of Feels. But no sniffles. Not yet. I tried and failed numerous times to go down the path of woobies and cuddles but Jim didn't like it and Bones found the whole experience pretty damn awkward. So I swapped the emotional stuff for some ranting instead. Lots and lots of ranting.

That said, this chapter brings you Jim, who is Not Amused; Bones, who is not drunk enough for this shit; Pike, who seriously needs a pay rise; Sam, who should have gotten a clue ten chapters ago and Spock, who might or might not be regretting not hanging with the Vulcans instead of joining Jim's Party Ship of Crazy. Oh, and Klingons.

2 more to go! I'm so excited! And I promise that I won't make you wait too long between stories! You've got a one-shot covering the Nibiru Incident (yes, let's go jump into an active volcano, fun!) and then we jump right in to the next story which I'm hoping to start posting by the weekend.

Bonus points for anyone who can guess the badguy(s?)!

(Posting a little early because I have the longest day ahead but I figured you would rather have it early than wait until tomorrow.)

* * *

Starfleet Academy made a big deal about joining peer run groups in order to widen social circles and develop talents that, while not crucial to Starfleet operations, were nonetheless useful.

Unlike Jim, McCoy hadn't had the slightest inclination to socialize and had shunned each hopeful recruiter with the same slightly condescending vitriol he turned on most things.

He was, however, the founding member, social secretary, treasurer and lead spokesperson of the Academy's most exclusive club. The 'Jim Kirk is a Goddamn Moron Club' had exactly two members: Leonard McCoy, MD and Admiral Christopher Pike.

Meetings would occure once a month during which copious amounts of very expensive alcohol would be consumed and they would console, commiserate or conspire as required.

In light of recent events, their monthly meeting had been called early. It was, however, opened with exactly the same words it had every time prior: "He's an absolute goddamn moron!" McCoy exploded as he paced sickbay, angrily reshelving things that had been put away in stupid places.

"Technically it isn't actually his fault this time." Pike said reasonably, though his voice reflected the stress and exhaustion the situation had brought on.

"_Technically_ it very rarely is." McCoy grumbled. "Doesn't stop the universe dumping him right in the middle of it."

"It's made him who he is now."

Some idiot had left a dermalregen unit on charge instead of standby and McCoy briefly entertained the idea of hunting them down and eviscerating them, but decided that was probably a little melodramatic even for him. "A neurotic overachiever who suffers from chronic nightmares, crippling self doubt and the deep sated belief that no one can ever love him?"

Pike leaned back against the biobed he was perched on. At JKiaGM meetings all ranks and professional titles were put aside in recognition of the strife they often found themselves in and as a result Pike was almost as relaxed around him as he sometimes was with Jim. "If that was all he was we wouldn't both be here wishing we were shitfaced drunk."

"True." McCoy conceded as he rearranged several hypos by size and function. "You realize that when we get him back he is never stepping foot off this ship again? He can sit in his goddamn chair and save the universe from there."

Pike snorted. "Good luck getting him on board with that."

"I'll set Spock on him." McCoy figured the Vulcan could do a better job of keeping Jim in line than most people and if not at least he'd get to enjoy the fallout. Watching a Vulcan trying to apply logic to the most illogical man in existence was comedy gold.

Pike clearly knew where his thoughts were headed because he shook his head. "That's unkind."

"I take my fun where I can get it." McCoy growled. Since when did he allow his staff to alphabetize their drugs? They should be sorted according to usage and function. He calculated how long it would take to rearrange them. Any excuse not to keep staring at the PADD on his desk. He'd set an alarm to chime should Jim come into range.

They'd been on course for Tarsus VI for little over an hour. Sulu had them arriving in another four, thought Scott was doing all he could to increase the warp capabilities on the borrowed crystal. From what McCoy understood, Engineering were attempting to keep the entire ship on the edge of a nuclear meltdown without actually going over the edge. The chief had not, surprisingly, said anything when Spock had requested everything they could give.

When Uhura had found the tracking co-ordinates Jim had sent them buried in the cache of to be deleted datafiles she'd let loose a whoop of joy then started an epic rant on Jim's thickheaded stupidity as she realized how close they had come to deleting it without checking its content - if JKiaGM ever expanded, she'd be the first on their recruitment list.

Chekov had checked the numbers, added them to his own equations and gone suddenly very, very pale.

McCoy had all but shaken the answer from him, but the kid had lost his voice and it took Sulu leaning over his station and grimly announcing the findings.

It was debatable who had taken the news the worst.

McCoy managed not to start breaking things, telling himself that Jim would be upset if McCoy broke his favorite starship and that the likelihood of him needing full dexterity in his hands was going to be high.

Medical was on high alert, fully stocked and all but vibrating with concerned anticipation. Jim kept them all on his toes if nothing else.

"And what about Marcus?" McCoy said, giving up on his organizing and turning back to the PADD. Still nothing.

Pike looked especially troubled at the mention of the Fleet Admiral. "I have no idea."

"I'm guessing accusing him of covering up a famous massacre isn't really an option?" McCoy sighed. "God, if the press ever found out." A horrible thought suddenly occurred to him, "if they ever found out _Jim_ was there…" Jim got little enough privacy as it was when he was on Earth. As a figure who had skirted the edge of the media's awareness from the moment of his very famous birth, the reporters had descended into twirls of rapture when the son of a dead hero had gone on to save the universe and avenge his father's death. It was all very dramatic and poetic and it hadn't helped one bit that Jim was so damn photogenic.

Still, for all that people loved a hero, learning about his tormented past would drive them absolutely crazy. Jim would never get a moment's peace.

"We cannot allow that to happen." Pike said firmly. "Fleet PR have carte blanche to use any means necessary to kill certain stories before they leak – especially where Jim is concerned. His adolescent record is completely sealed to the public."

"And it will stay that way?" McCoy didn't put it past some geek with too much time on their hands not hacking the damn thing just for shits and giggles.

"When and if someone can work their way past Jim's coding then maybe not. I can't say I am all that concerned."

"Jim coded his own record?"

"Can you think of anyone with a more vested interest in keeping it private?"

"Guess not." McCoy shrugged. "Exactly how smart is he anyway?"

"Smart enough not to let us conclusively test him." Pike said dryly.

"Bet that pissed you off." McCoy snorted.

"A day hasn't gone by when he hasn't done something to raise my blood pressure." Pike rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I think he's making up for lost time."

"Or trying to see how far he can push you without you turning round and beating the crap out of him." McCoy said savvily. Jim's response to Pike displayed several classic psychological markers of abused children. He craved Pike's love and approval but was convinced his attempts would be met with negativity – of whatever form – and so in attempt to maintain control of their relationship he constantly pushed Pike's buttons, either to prove himself right or just to see how far the boundaries of safety extended. McCoy had figured that much from the first time he'd seen the two men interact.

"Something like that." Pike agreed grimly. The two men sat in silence together, both desperately missing the axis on which they hinged on.

Then McCoy's PADD began to beep.

His chair went flying as he struggled to reach it, almost as desperate as he would have been if it was Jim siting on his desk and not just his obs.

Pike stood almost as fast and waited in tense silence as McCoy took in all the figures that had suddenly started to display themselves on screen.

It took several minutes to digest.

"Well?" Pike demanded.

McCoy swallowed back on his rage and dug deep to find the center of professionalism that had enabled him to cut Jim open and stitch him back up again.

"White blood cell count is far higher than I'd like. Platelet levels are low, his serum thrombopoietin is elevated. Glucose levels are in the basement but then that's nothing new. Hemoglobin and blood nitrogen levels are fucked and his neurotransmitters just flooded with serotonin-norepinephrine."

"All of which means?" Pike said impatiently.

McCoy looked up from the PADD, his fingers white from clutching it to hard. "It means that he's ripped open his stitches, has picked up an infection from any one of the multitude of injuries I patched up, is dehydrated, hasn't eaten and is either in the middle of an anxiety attack or is actively fighting for his life. It means, Admiral, that you need to make this tin can move a hell of a lot faster."

Pike nodded and left, presumably for the bridge, leaving McCoy alone with Jim's rapidly declining vital signs and nothing to do but pray they reached him in time.

* * *

McCoy ventured to the bridge after hours of sitting alone and working himself into a panic. He stepped out of the turbo lift into a room shrouded in tension and taunt silence. Pike sat in Jim's chair, his gaze fixed on the black ahead. Spock stood silently behind him, for once not engaged at his own station.

"Captain!" Uhura's delighted voice suddenly broke the tension and the bridge froze before several voices all spoke up at once.

"Is that Jim?" McCoy demanded, speaking the loudest over Pike, Spock and Riley. Uhura held up a finger to silence them, her attention fully focused on her headset. Then she cringed, paused, and patched the channel to the entire bridge, right in the middle of a truly spectacular string of curses.

"-_utterly fucking insane!"_

"Jim!" McCoy wasn't the only one to shout in joy at the sound of Jim's voice, even if he did sound awful. Relief made his chest ache and his eyes burn.

"_Hey Bones! I think I popped some of your stitches." _Days of worrying about the little shit only to have Jim's failing health flung so casually back at him made the emotions in McCoy's already unsteady heart twist brutally. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh, cry, or wring Jim's damn neck.

"I can fix that." He said instead, his voice thick.

"_You always do." _Jim's breathing sounded strained and heavy. He was obviously out of breath, but it was unclear why until the sudden ping of phaser fire sounded in the background. Jim cursed again. "_Is Pike still with you?"_

Pike leaned forward. "Jim. It's good to hear your voice, son."

"_Everyone missed me, that's great_." Jim sounded cold and decidedly pissed off. _"Listen, I might be about to start a war with the Klingons."_

Pike's eyebrows rose in surprise. "How exactly did Klingons get involved in all this?"

"_Because my brother is an absolute fucking idiot. I can't actually believe we camped out in the same woman's uterus."_ Jim snapped then sighed in pain. His breath rattled as he inhaled and McCoy was already mentally calculating the likelihood of a pulmonary infection. "_Look, I'm having a really, really bad day. You can write me up for insubordination or conduct unbecoming or whatever the fuck, but if you could maybe come down here and help me sort this shit out I would be really very grateful."_

"We're –" Pike looked at Chekov, who held up all of his fingers, afraid to speak "ten minutes from your location. Just lay low and hang in there."

"_Not really an option right now, Admiral."_

"I'll make it an order if I have to, Captain. You're in no condition to be dealing with this on your own." Pike said sternly.

"_And I'll disobey if _I _have to, sir." _Jim sounded almost regretful. "_Oh for the love of….seriously? Just do me a favor and hurry up! Kirk out!"_

And just as abruptly as it had arrived, Kirk's communication dropped. Instantly Uhura was trying to increase the frequency, but she reached the same conclusion as McCoy almost straight away. "He's killed the connection."

"I'll kill _him_." McCoy snarled.

Pike actually looked like he agreed. "Bridge to Engineering."

"_Aye, sir."_ Scott answered promptly.

"I need everything you've got and I need it now." Pike ordered grimly.

Scott must have heard the tension and anger in his voice because he made none of his usual complaints. "Aye sir. I can take us to Warp Six."

"Do it." Pike turned to Sulu. "Get us within five hundred thousand kilometers then hand over to your relief. I assume you want to come down with us."

"Yes sir, I do." Sulu said bluntly.

"Anyone else?" As one, every bridge officer raised his or her hand. Pike sighed and took a seat. "Practical volunteers only, please." Kevin Riley stepped forwards, ire in his eyes. Pike shook his head before he even spoke. "No chance."

"I'm not requesting, sir." Riley said, his chin wobbling a little but his eyes were set and confident.

Pike sat back, one eyebrow rising. Served him right, McCoy thought, seeing Jim in the kid's stubborn expression. "Is that so?"

Riley swallowed but stood his ground. "You need someone who knows the city. I've been there, you haven't."

"That's what maps are for." Pike's lip twitched tiredly. McCoy was fairly certain he'd given in already and was merely curious to see how long the kid would hang in for.

"Maps can't tell you everything. And," Riley squared his shoulders, "with all due respect sir, he means as much to me as he does to you."

Pike's gaze softened. "I can see that, Ensign. He's lucky to have you."

Riley shook his head. "No sir, we're lucky to have him."

"I concur." Spock suddenly spoke up, surprising everyone, not least of all McCoy.

"Jim's going to kill me." Pike muttered under his breath. "Very well, Ensign. I'm not even going to ask you, Doctor." Pike almost rolled his eyes.

"Good." McCoy grunted. "If anyone needs me I'll be counting my gray hairs." He didn't wait for a response and stormed off the bridge before he forgot his vow not to break anything.

* * *

They beamed down right into the middle of chaos.

McCoy's first instinct was to look for Jim and he recoiled in shock when he finally saw him.

Jim looked like hell. Bloody and battered, the chains still fastened to his wrist had been coiled over his shoulders to allow greater movement. Beneath the bruises and grime, he was sickly pale and his eyes shone glassily. Blood caked his hair and McCoy almost panicked at the thought of Jim taking another blow to the head so soon after fracturing his skull.

He wasn't the only one who looked a mess. Leighton looked completely lost and the team behind them all were armed and aiming their weapons at the five Klingon commandos who were positioned on the other side of the landing party. One of them had a large hand wrapped around Sam Kirk's throat and McCoy was entirely okay with cheering on a Klingon for once.

All in all, it wasn't the ideal spot to suddenly transport into.

McCoy made to move to Jim's side but was held back by Spock and Jim's hard, authoritative voice. "Hold your position, McCoy." He snapped, sounding nothing at all like the man McCoy had known for years.

"Goddamnit Jim! You need medical attention." McCoy snapped, glaring at Spock out of the corner of his eye. The Vulcan looked around serenely, as if they hadn't just dropped into the biggest clusterfuck he'd ever seen.

"I _need_ you to stay exactly where you are." Jim countered, his eyes never leaving the face of the one Klingon who stood at the front of the formation. He then picked up his conversation as if a team of Starfleet officers hadn't just gatecrashed it. "-and I get that you were promised a shiny dilithium crystal but you can't have it because it's mine and I don't share. And yes, that's going to piss you off, I get that too. He pisses everyone off, me most of all, and I'm actually related to the shithead." He jerked his thumb over at Sam who choked as he was lifted another inch off the ground.

"You wish us not to kill the traitor?" The largest of the Klingons laughed at him. Jim shook his head quickly. "He has no loyalty to his people, his species or even his kin."

"Oh, by all means, go ahead." Jim said absently, swaying slightly on the spot. "Kill him. But then you need to get back in your ship and go home because like I said, you aren't having the dilithium." McCoy wasn't sure if Jim was bluffing or not which was what made him so good at it, but it was scary as hell to watch. There wasn't a single spark of Jim's usual warmth or compassion in his eyes. McCoy believed every word he said. He'd stand by and watch them kill his brother without so much as a flinch.

The Klingon cocked his head, assessing Jim and clearly finding him lacking. "And what stop us just taking, and killing you?"

Jim actually laughed. It had a manic, slightly hysterical edge to it that said far more about what he had been subjected to the last few days than any physical wound. "A lot of people have tried really hard to kill me without much success. And who knows, maybe you'll be the one to finally do it." He admitted. "But I'm having a shitty day and killing you would actually make it just a little bit better."

"I am supposed to believe you are killer? You are small like infant." Clearly the Klingon was as unimpressed with Jim's appearance as McCoy was, though for undoubtedly different reasons.

"Well sure, it's been a while. But I'm sure it's just like flying a cruiser: gets easier the more you do it."

"I crush you with one hand." The Klingon mocked. Spock's hand tightened on McCoy's arm as a growl reverberated in his chest.

Jim nodded in agreement. "Most likely. I'm not looking great, I'll admit it." He looked up and smiled, nasty and full of blood. "But see, this is when I do my best work." The smile dropped away and the Jim left behind looked perfectly capable of murder. "So listen to me now and believe me when I say that if you fuck with me, I will kill you all."

Silence rang across the street. Jim was the focus of everyone's attention as his crew looked at him in stunned shock while the Klingons assessed the level of threat he actually posed.

Their collective breaths were held, waiting for the situation to spiral out of control, when the Klingon leader stepped forwards and removed his helmet. He eyed Jim up and down then matched his smile with an equally unpleasant smirk. "I take no pleasure in squashing bugs whose wings have already been clipped."

Jim actually rolled his eyes. "Of course not."

The Klingon laughed. "That said, I look forward to the day I spill your blood on real battle field."

Jim blinked. "Er, ditto? I'm going with ditto." The Klingon laughed again and threw Sam down at Jim's feet.

"Keep treacherous human. And your crystal. We require neither. Next time we meet, I gift your spinal column to my woman as necklace." He signaled to his lieutenant and a moment later all five were beamed back to their ship.

McCoy stared at Jim in shock.

"Great, crisis averted. Also wow, gory mental image." Jim's shoulders slumped. He looked down at his brother and said, "So I'd pick up where we were so rudely interrupted by your stupidass plan…" he then looked up at Bones, something of the old Jim he knew and loved shining through the coldness in his eyes. "But I think I'm going to pass out now."

And less than a second after admitting weakness for the first time in his life, Jim keeled over. Leighton made a move to catch him, but in a surprising show of speed, Sam got there first and McCoy was once again dragged to a stop by Spock.

The fear was back as Jim hung senselessly in his brother's arms, but Sam seemed in no rush to harm Jim further. Instead he stared down at Jim, his face a mask of hurt and confusion. "I don't understand."

"I don't think any of us ever could." Pike said with surprising compassion. "He's special. We've always known that."

"I just wanted to make things right." Sam whispered brokenly. "To make them pay for that they did to us."

"You said it yourself." Leighton surprised them all when he stepped forwards and spoke. "We can't change what happened. We can't go back and save him. What peace would revenge give him?"

McCoy suddenly exploded. "Enough! So your life has been a shitstorm; I don't actually care. You want to get back at Marcus, go pull on _his_ pigtails, but leave Jim the hell out of it. He was doing fine before you showed up."

"Marcus was using him! Just like he always has!" Sam exploded. "You really think he'd be captain of Marcus' flagship for any other reason?"

"I believe," Spock said frostily, "that Captain Kirk gained his commission through ingenious application of skill, subterfuge and sheer courage." He looked at Jim and then amended his statement, "His fortitude and determination to do the right thing no matter the personal cost will always be the source of his strength."

"It nearly got him killed." Sam snapped.

"And I think he'd rather die than sit back and do nothing." Leighton said quietly.

Sam carefully eased Jim down onto the ground and McCoy broke free from Spock's grasp. "It was supposed to be you and me, Jim. Against the universe."

"He doesn't need you." McCoy snapped, hands going straight for Jim's throat and the sluggish heartbeat that thrummed just below the skin. "What he needs are people who love him and who care for him and who call him out when he's being a moronic bastard and who actually give a damn about _who_ he is not what he can do for them."

Jim moaned at the touch of McCoy's fingers, his eyes fluttering open.

Sam Kirk was instantly forgotten.

"Hey Bones." Jim whispered.

McCoy swallowed. He'd actually started to fear he would never be called that again. "Hey yourself, kid." He said gruffly. His tricorder was out and spitting out numbers that made him want to strangle someone, but so long as Jim kept his eyes open, McCoy would take what he had and run with it. "Right mess you got yourself into."

"I know. I'm sorry." Jim mumbled. Whatever dregs of energy Jim had found to get himself through the last few days was well and truly spent. If he'd been looking at anyone else, McCoy wouldn't have believed them capable of what he'd just seen Jim do. Not after major surgery and precious little aftercare, and not when followed up with what looked like a seriously bad example of fraternal hospitality. The chains around Jim's wrists were far too tight and his fingers were bloody and swollen. By the looks of it he'd ripped off a couple of fingernails and it made McCoy sick to even speculate on what had driven him to such acts of selfmutilation.

"Hey." McCoy said sharply. "Don't you dare. This is not your fault."

"A first." Jim's lips twitched.

"And probably a last." McCoy agreed. He rocked back on his heels to call out for the rest of his kit when Jim latched onto his wrist with bloody fingers.

"Please. Don't go." He whispered.

McCoy grabbed his hand and held on tight, his eyes swimming with tears. Instead of letting them fall, he leaned down and rested his forehead gently against Jim's. "I told you kid, ain't no getting rid of me."

Jim's chest rattled with the sharp breath he took. They needed to get him into medical as soon as possible. "You didn't know. What I did. What I am."

"I knew, Jimmy. I've known who you are from the moment I met you. The rest is just detail." And it was funny how none of it mattered to him now he had Jim back. Frank, Tarsus, Marcus… McCoy could pretend all of it never happened if he got to keep Jim with him, healthy and whole. The call for violence in his blood wasn't half as strong as the need to comfort and protect.

A hand settled on McCoy's shoulder, pulling his attention away from the tears swimming in Jim's eyes. He looked up into Spock's calm face. "We are ready when you are, Doctor."

McCoy looked over his shoulder, Sam and his men were all on their knees, hands behind their heads as Sulu and Riley kept them under guard. "You ready to go home, kiddo?" He asked Jim, his diagnostics complete.

"Hypos?" Jim asked tiredly, slowly losing the fight with his exhaustion.

"Oh you have no idea." Bones said darkly. "Seriously Jim, if you're going to go getting yourself kidnapped every time I sew up holes in your lungs then you are going to have to start contributing to my brandy collection."

"Wanted to stay." McCoy hadn't noticed that he'd not let go of Jim's hand until fingers curled weakly around his own.

"I know." McCoy whispered. "And I promise you I won't leave you alone. Never 're going to be okay Jim, I promise."

For the second time in less than a week, McCoy paid no attention to his inherent distrust of transporters and held Jim close as they were beamed directly to sickbay.


	25. Chapter 25

Letting you in on a secret here: as much as I love Jim&Bones BFF…I love Jim&Spock more. (Which is why Jim&Spock&Bones is the best thing ever!) You have NO IDEA how glad I am to finally be getting to a point in their relationship where the bromance can form. Talk about a slow build!

Also! Penultimate part! Eek!

* * *

Spock had not had either the time or wherewithal to see Kirk for almost forty eight hours after recovering him from Tarsus IV. Admiral Pike had stepped down as the ship's CO leaving Spock in command in order to spend his time with the captain.

In order to facilitate the repairs needed to the warp core, refit its dilithium crystal and allow the ship's crew the time they needed to recover after working without pause or complaint to rescue their captain, Spock had diverted Risa, the closest major Federation planet with a large enough aerospace diagnostics and repair center. They had arrived only an hour ago and already the first rotation of crew had beamed down for a thirty-six hour shore leave.

The prisoners would stay on the ship until their collection three days hence. Spock was taking no chances and had a rotating guard on them at all times. Jim had his own guard stationed outside medical and the remaining crew were on high alert.

Finally free to leave his station, Spock headed straight to medical.

Doctor McCoy had fallen asleep in a position remarkably similar to the one Spock had found him in shortly after the final battle with Nero. His head was pillowed on his arm, which was in turn resting on the side of Jim's bed. The captain himself was awake and thumbing through a PADD. He looked up at the sound of Spock's entrance and smiled. "Hey. How's our girl?"

Spock looked at McCoy in concern and spoke very softly. "Should I be concerned about waking the doctor?"

"Nah." Jim shook his head. "He's out cold. Stupid bastard always does this when I get hurt. So long as nothing starts to beep he'll be out for a while. Don't envy him the back ache, though." Kirk looked at his friend with a sympathy that belied the true meaning of his words. Spock had come to learn that some humans, these two in particular, would go to great lengths to mask their true emotions with deceit. It was quite remarkable to witness.

"Your situation has been greatly troubling for all aboard." Spock said, including himself among them, "none more so that the doctor."

"Bones…worries." Jim said, his expression troubled. "He always has. He cares too much."

"I do not believe that is correct. He cares only as much as is deserved." Jim looked up at him in surprise, clearly uncomfortable with the implication Spock was making.

"Maybe." Jim agreed eventually. "Look, about Uhura. I would never put her in danger willingly. I'd never want to hurt any of you, and I'm sorry she got caught up in it."

"I am aware of what happened at the symposium, Captain." Spock cut in, overriding Kirk's apology. "You protected Nyota at great cost to yourself. You have my thanks."

"Yeah, until she decided to take on a bunch of batshit crazy terrorists all by herself. I didn't imagine that, did I?"

Spock allowed himself a twitch of amusement. "I believe you have a greater influence on the crew than you acknowledge."

"Well that's terrifying."

"I believe 'inspiring' is the word you were looking for, however I am informed you are recovering from a severe head injury and confusing ones words is a common side effect."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Why the hell did I ever think you had no sense of humor?"

"Your ill-informed conclusions do perplex me," Spock agreed, enjoying the comfort of the conversation. He had not realized how much me missed his discourses with Kirk – at least when they were in agreement on something. "Especially in light of recent revelations." Jim's expression became troubled and Spock quickly clarified. "You go to great lengths to disguise your intelligence. Why?"

Jim frowned. "No I don't."

"I am afraid you do."

"Since when?"

"Since you allow crew members to explain concepts to you that you already grasp, quite possibly more coherently than they do themselves. Since you clearly speak more languages than your personnel file indicates, and since you developed a genetically superior species of plant – a most complex and time consuming project I might add – and fail to take credit for it."

Jim's confused from shifted into mild annoyance. "Jesus, Kevin really can't keep a damn secret, can he?" Spock understood the question to be a rhetorical one and did not respond. "Okay look, people like to show off their skills to the captain. It gives them confidence and makes them feel good. I don't list a lot of the languages I dabble-" Spock's eyebrow rose, "_dabble_ in because a fair few of them are illegal and no one really cares how many dialects of a dead language you know. As for the quadro-triticale… if I told people about that they'd want to know why I was doing it."

"I understand, Jim." Spock said gently, stressing the use of the captain's name.

Jim met his eyes and for the first time Spock saw beyond the mask he used to keep the world at bay to the depths of pain he kept buried beneath it. Indeed he did understand.

It was surprising, and perhaps comforting, to realize that for all their many conflicts and differences, he and Jim were not very unlike each other after all.

Spock kept his pain at bay by ruthless application of logic and emotional control. Jim managed his by pretending it didn't exist. Neither could perhaps be considered healthy or wise, but they were the only methods they had at their disposal.

"I understand." Spock said again, "and I feel it only right that, as someone who is not as emotionally compromised by your experiences as the doctor or Admiral Pike, if you require someone to talk to without fear of judgment, I am at your disposal."

Jim blinked at him in surprise. "Thanks Spock. I…I'm not going to take you up on it. But thank you."

Spock inclined his head. "You are welcome, Jim." He reached down and confiscated the PADD resting on Jim's lap. Jim squawked and made a grab for it but was hampered by the sheets tucked tightly around him. "I believe you are on medical leave for the next fortnight. You are supposed to be resting."

"You're as bad as Bones!" Jim protested, his flailing managing to wake the doctor, who stirred with a grumble. "Seriously, do you want me to get bored because that's when I start fucking with the replicators for fun." He yelped suddenly as McCoy's arm swung out of nowhere and nailed him with a hypo. "You should be sleeping!" Jim accused his friend.

McCoy raised his head tiredly. "Look who's talking. Shut up and go to sleep."

"I hate you so much." Jim said, slumping down against the pillows in a dead sleep.

"Right back at ya, kid." Mccoy yawned, shuffled a little further against the bed, and went back to sleep. Spock left them to their rest in silence and told himself that, in light of recent events, standing guard outside of medical for the rest of the shift was only logical.

* * *

For all that Jim was on enforced medical leave, Admiral Marcus demanded he be debriefed. Jim, unwilling to make the call from the vulnerable position of a biobed, had directed it be put through to his ready room.

Spock had been surprised when McCoy had allowed it, but pleased to see Jim step back on the bridge once more in uniform, even if it would only be for a short amount of time.

"Keptain on the bridge!" Chekov chirruped in delight, triggering a wave of greetings from those who had not been permitted to visit Jim in sickbay.

"Yeah, I missed you guys too." Jim grinned at them all. His very presence lifted the strained tension on the deck and the crew's moral skyrocketed in mere seconds. "Thanks for coming to pick me up, by the way. And not, you know, breaking the ship. Good work."

"Statistically, captain, you are the only one to have broken the ship." Spock pointed out.

"Okay, that was Scotty and we agreed we weren't going to bring it up again." Jim protested with a pout purely designed to bring amusement to his crew.

The scatter of laughter was an indication of success. "You agreed, captain." Spock would not allow him the last word. Not this time.

"Captain," Uhura's warm voice stopped Kirk before he could retaliate. "I have Admiral Marcus online. Would you like me to make him wait?" By the sound of her voice, she was more than willing to do so.

Much of Kirk's geniality vanished. "No, that's alright lieutenant. Patch him through to my ready room, then I want you, Sulu and Riley to come in with me. Bones and Pike are already waiting. Spock, you too."

Those named by Jim's request shared looks of surprise and concern. "Captain, it is not necessary-" Spock felt the need to intervene.

"It is. And I'm only going to do this the once, but I could do with the support." Jim looked like a man preparing for battle and Spock wondered if that was what was about to happen.

As one, the command crew followed Jim into the ready room, their relief smoothly taking seats at their stations. As Jim had said, both Admiral Pike and Doctor McCoy were waiting.

Without a word, they all took their seats. Jim offered Pike his chair and gave a small smile when Pike rolled his eyes and sat in Leighton's position instead. "I need you all to do something for me." Jim asked them seriously.

"Anything you need, Jim." McCoy said, unusually gentle.

Jim nodded. "I need your best poker faces here. Whatever I say, whatever _he_ says, you can't interrupt me and you can't look like you want to stab something, yes Bones that _is_ your natural expression I know that. Just…don't. You probably aren't going to like a lot of what I'm going to say, and Admiral," Kirk looked at Pike specifically, "I really need you to back my play on this."

"I trust you Jim." Pike sat back calmly. That was all Kirk needed to hear, apparently.

"Thank you." He said sincerely. "If anyone doesn't want to be here, I understand. This could get messy."

"Messier than almost starting a var vith Klingon Empire, keptain?" Chekov asked with timid humor.

Jim snorted. "Maybe not that messy. But still…"

No one moved and Kirk smiled ever so briefly before nodding to Uhura.

Moments later, Marcus appeared on screen. "Kirk. Good to see you in one piece, son." He spoke congenially, as if he had not ordered Kirk's crew to hunt him down like a criminal.

"Thank you sir." Kirk said calmly, his face utterly blank of anything but polite attention. "I appreciate the assistance you gave in sending Admiral Pike in my absence, it was much appreciated."

Marcus narrowed his eyes at Kirk's uncharacteristic attitude and Spock feared the ploy done. "Drop the bullshit Kirk, I know you better than that. Get to the point."

Kirk's expression didn't so much as twitch. "The threat's been neutralized, the terrorists are in our custody, Klingons don't have our dilithium and no one died."

"Except Sato and Nixon." Marcus said mildly.

"Unfortunate," Kirk said calmly, "but not my responsibility." Spock had no problem hiding his reaction but he could tell the others did not share his ease of control.

"No, you can thank your brother for that." Marcus glowered. "Any idea what he was trying to achieve in the first place?"

"Your head on a platter, I think." Kirk responded with mild amusement. "Or possibly just a limb or two, he never actually clarified."

To the surprise of the assembled officers, Marcus actually laughed. "And he thought you'd be the one to give it to him. Boy doesn't know you well at all, does he?"

"Not as well as you do, sir." Kirk nodded affably. "Which is why putting a hit out on me was a little excessive. Can I assume that the agents currently marking us are going to be withdrawn?"

Spock met Pike's eyes in shock. At no point had they encountered such a threat and it unnerved him as much for passing his attention unnoticed as it did Kirk seemed to know about it. Either he was more aware than he'd let on, or he was more familiar with the standard operating procedures of special operations groups than he should be.

Marcus waved his hand, "When the prisoners are transferred. Think of them as extra insurance given that your brother did manage to cripple our flagship once before. And don't take it personally, Kirk. I can't take anything for granted, not even you."

"I appreciate that," Kirk said mildly, his voice and his face betraying nothing. Spock had never seen him so calm. It was most unnerving. "But we both know I was never going to be a threat to you."

"No, you're too well trained for that, aren't you Kirk." Marcus shook his head. "Too well trained and too fucked in the head."

"I am what you made me, Admiral." Kirk said, suddenly sounding as cold and dangerous as he had on Tarsus.

"No sudden urge to murder me for fucking up your life?" Marcus actually seemed to be finding the whole situation terribly amusing, which suggested either a solid belief in his complete control of both Kirk and the situation, or perhaps that he knew something they did not.

Kirk smiled. "No more than usual."

Marcus laughed again then got back to business. "Tell me about the Klingons."

"There isn't much more I can tell you I'm afraid, Admiral. The prisoners were attempting to use the stolen dillithium crystal to trade for something, but it wasn't mentioned what they wanted and the Klingons didn't seem particularly concerned when the deal fell through."

"Implying that they were getting the greater deal." Marcus nodded.

"Yes sir."

"Okay, well I'll worry about getting some answers when we take possession of the prisoners. You hurry up and get your ship back in working order. You've got a backlog of missions and I want you active."

"Commander Spock will remain in control for the next two weeks, Admiral. I'm on restricted duty on CMOs orders."

Marcus nodded. "Fine. Policy dictates that you see a shrink from SFM. I assume you'll have no problems passing the requisite interview?"

Kirk's smile still had an edge. "Never have done, sir."

"Good man." Marcus nodded.

"I do have one question sir. Maybe you could answer it for me?"

"Oh yes?" Marcus' brows drew together in suspicion.

"I've established that my brother and his team broke out of a Cardassian prison camp eighteen months ago."

"Your point?"

"Why tell me he died?"

Marcus sighed. "Well shit son, I was trying to protect you." Given what they knew of Marcus, Spock found the lie an implausible one.

"Sir?"

"Sam Kirk is unstable. We never should have given him his commission, but we did, and that's my cross to shoulder. He and his team were imprisoned after they made attempts on the lives of several high ranking officers. Given their training and their background, it was considered safest for everyone and given the nature of their jobs, it was sealed under Starfleet Intelligence's Official Secrets Act. Given his obsession with both Tarsus and Starfleet, when we learned of your brother's escape we feared he would attempt to contact you. To manipulate you as he has since attempted to do. You showed promise, Kirk. Even back in the Academy. We figured it would be best for you if all links were cut."

"You would have had him killed." Kirk concluded.

"I would have protected a cadet at the Academy from a deranged madman." Marcus prevaricated.

Kirk nodded. "Thank you for your candor. And thank you for trying to look out for me."

"It's my pleasure, son. We look after our own, you know that." Marcus said. "That'll be all for now. We'll reconvene in forty-eight hours after the prisoners have been transferred. You're dismissed."

Kirk stood to attention, the crew all following in his direction. "Admiral." Kirk acknowledged. He shared a final glance with Marcus and the connection was terminated.

Doctor McCoy was the first to voice his thoughts. "Okay, what the hell was that?"

Admiral Pike was not far behind. "That was risky, Jim. You're playing a dangerous game."

The rest of the crew respected Jim's authority too much to speak up without invitation but it was clear they all looked uncomfortable with what just happened.

"Jim, why the hell does Marcus seem to think you knew about his connection to Tarsus already?" McCoy shook his head, concern and anger vying for lead place in his emotions. Having been the target for the doctor's anger, Spock fervently hoped concern would be victorious. "You didn't know, did you?"

Jim's shoulders slumped as he fell back in his chair. "Of course I didn't know."

"Then why let him think you did?"

"Because the man admitted to covering up a genocide." Jim said flatly. "And if we start rocking the boat he's going to question our ability to keep quiet about it."

"And are we going to do that?" Sulu spoke up soberly. "Keep quiet."

Jim's gaze turned sharply to the helmsman. "Yes we are. Tarsus happened. People died. Nothing will change that. Making an enemy out of the head of Starfleet because it's morally the right thing to do is just going to get a lot more people hurt."

"You think you can convince him you're still a team player?" Pike questioned calmly, ever the voice of reason.

"Hey," Kirk looked offended. "I am a team player. Maybe not Team Marcus but I believe in what Starfleet stands for or else I wouldn't be here."

"That's not what I mean, son." Pike's gaze softened.

Jim sighed, his defensiveness evaporating. "No, I know. Yes, I can convince him. I convinced Kodos."

"Right up until he tried to kill you." Kevin said with the bluntness only someone who had witnessed the events could get away with.

"Then let's just hope Marcus isn't quite as deranged." Kirk huffed. "Until then we keep our heads down and I play the obedient little captain."

"Can you do that? No offence Jim, but you're not exactly subtle when you don't like someone." McCoy didn't even hide his side long glance at Spock.

"I had breakfast with a deranged mass murder every day for three months knowing that as soon as we were done he was going to go out and butcher another family. You have no idea how subtle I can be." Jim said flatly, making McCoy flinch. It was clear that wasn't Jim's intention because his expression instantly softened. "I don't trust Marcus and he sure as hell won't be trusting me, but until we give him the ammunition to do otherwise, it isn't in his advantage to make a move against us."

"Then we go by the book." Uhura said firmly. "Until…"

"Until he steps down, which is unlikely." Pike concluded. "Or he makes a move against Jim."

"In which case, I need to be in a strategically defensible position. He needs to come to me, not the other way around."

"You realize you're essentially talking about waging a war on the head of Starfleet, right?" Sulu asked.

"Essentially." Jim agreed.

"Okay great, just so we're on the same page."

"Hell, why worry about space killing us when our own command will do the job for free?" McCoy grunted. "Seriously Jim, can't we just give him smallpox or something?"

"I thought they found a cure for that?" Uhura said.

McCoy thumbed his hypo maliciously. "Still hurts like hell."

"Okay, no chemical warfare Bones, jeeze!" Jim looked mildly alarmed. "And we're blowing this way out of proportion. I'm talking about keeping us safe _if_ Marcus decides I'm not't useful enough to him to be left alone."

"And what's to stop him just killing you?" Sulu asked Jim.

"Yeah Jim," McCoy agreed. "You die and then it's just his word against ours."

"I have no intention of dying." Jim rolled his eyes. "And Marcus is arrogant enough to like the idea of having that much power over me."

"I don't like it." McCoy huffed.

"It is the soundest course of action." Spock backed Kirk's play to a grateful smile from his captain. "However it would be prudent to have a pair of eyes on the inside should Marcus attempt to move against you, Captain."

"Well that'll be easy enough for me." Pike spoke up. Kirk shifted minutely in his chair.

"I'm not sure that's a-"

"Kirk, I might not have your colorful history when it comes to manipulating the people around me," Jim scowled at the words, despite the gentleness with which they were spoken, "but I do happen to have far more experience with politics. Keep your nose to the ground and I'll take care of things back home."

"What about Kirk?" Uhura suddenly asked. "Not you, I mean Sam." She amended quickly.

Kirk's expression shuttered. "What about him?"

"Surely he _is_ a threat to Marcus? What's to stop him just killing them all once we transfer them?"

"Absolutely nothing." Kirk shook his head.

"And you're okay with that?" McCoy asked. "He _is_ your brother."

Jim raised his head, his eyes cold and merciless once more. "He murdered the one person who actually cared that I existed. He attacked my crew and he tried to trade part of my ship to the _Klingons_ of all people. Any love or loyalty I might have owed him is spent. He's on his own now."

Yet despite the cold certainty of his words, Spock saw in Jim something he had not seen before.

He saw a lie.


	26. Chapter 26

We made it! I can't express enough just how wonderful it has been to explore these characters with you all. Thank you so much for the support and encouragement (and threats and creative suggestions on how Sam should die). As I said probably a dozen times, this story in particular was always geared at getting everyone into place for STID. Jim in particular, because while that damn film hurt my soul the one thing I found most interesting was that Jim finally goes up against someone – and loses. And I'm not talking about Harrison. There was a lot of talk about how arrogant Marcus was for thinking he could control Khan, but I found Kirk to be equally as arrogant and I loved the idea of a character who has always managed to prevail - no matter how bad the situation, no matter how scarred it left him- actually being beaten purely because he had faced worse in the past and assumed he could do so again. That more than anything was the motivation for making Marcus the bad guy here – because Pike's death is literally the last straw and Kirk will use any play he can to get revenge – even engaging an enemy he knows is dangerous and out to get him. Plus, I liked the parallels there were between Kirk and Khan in the film and wanted to up the ante with that a bit. So yeah... Sorry Sam, you were just a tool. Sucks to be him, I guess.

Aaaaaanyway, this last chapter is pretty laden with dramatic irony as it directly leads into STID – and everything that happens.

I hope it satisfies you all, and thank you once again for sticking with me, despite the cliffhangers of doom and the twisty turny plot that will still have some threads left loose for the next story.

I'm going to do my very best to respond to all the reviewers for the final part – I know I've been terrible at doing that for earlier chapters. It may take me some time, but I want to say thank you to as many as you as a can. (Anon reviewers, please know you make my entire day sunnier and thank you so much!)

* * *

Being restricted from duty didn't actually stop Jim from working and to his surprise, neither did McCoy. The doctor seemed to get that Jim needed to stay busy and allowed him to wander as he pleased as soon as the swelling in his skull had settled to a more acceptable level. He was still on a daily dose of hypos, but he'd faced worse from Bones in the past.

Jim wandered around his ship, playing over everything that had happened in the last few days and forcing himself not to seek Sam out in the brig.

Things with Marcus were dangerous, he knew that, and he knew the risk should the man ever become convinced that Jim wasn't one hundred percent under his thumb. For the moment, Kirk's reputation protected him and that was the best card he had to play, so he used it. He knew Pike and Spock were especially concerned, but flying under the radar was actually Jim's specialty.

Sam and his team – Thomas Leighton included – were due to be picked up in less than an hour. They were to be transferred via shuttle to a prisoner transport ship that would take them into holding. They were, once again, not entitled to a trial.

Jim suffered under no illusions. Marcus was going to have Sam killed, and if he didn't, Sam was going to break out and cause trouble all over again.

If Jim was looking for the easy way out, he'd let Marcus do what the man did best and cover the entire thing up.

But even if Sam wasn't his brother, Jim wouldn't let that happen. It galled him that he had to let Marcus continue to exist unpunished for Tarsus and for all that he abhorred Sam's methods, he did understand their motive.

Which was why the shuttle that was officially going to be used to transport the prisoners to their new transport was rigged with a faulty second engine that would, on Jim's calculation, explode once it had cleared the ship's shields. All inside would be killed instantly in what Jim could reasonably write off as a tragic accident, and Marcus would be convinced of Jim's loyalty. He'd never ask Jim to kill his brother, he wasn't that stupid, but Jim had read the suggestion loud and clear. If he wanted Marcus to trust him, he needed to cut all ties with Sam in the only way the Admiral accepted.

His command crew already knew his plan and no one else would suspect Jim's involvement to be anything but innocent. Captain Kirk wasn't a killer.

Which could probably be considered a truth, really.

Jim was the killer. He'd spilled blood in self-defense and he'd spilled blood on the offense. He'd done it for good reasons and he'd done it for bad ones and there was no changing that.

But Captain Kirk was different, and Jim was trying to be more like him every day.

Jim schemed, Kirk planned.

Jim would kill his brother for Marcus. Kirk would fuck him over big style.

Jim finally reached one of the least used hangers and took a breath. Scotty had made sure the area was clear. Spock had arranged the transportation. Sulu, Chekov and Uhura were covering his tracks up in the bridge.

Keeping a secret on a starship only worked if everyone knew about it.

So while the prisoners were officially loaded into the shuttle in hanger six by Spock and Riley, Jim was herding Sam and his men into a comfortable diplomatic shuttle Admiral Pike was scheduled to be departing the ship in.

Pike had beamed down to Risa the day before and wouldn't step foot aboard again. According to the transporter room logs, he'd returned with Jim from a meeting with the city's council that morning.

"You have enough fuel to get you to Sector 9. It should get you as far as Cestus if you're careful with it. After that, you're on your own." Jim informed them as they filled into the shuttle. It would be a tight squeeze but they'd endured worse he was sure.

Joxer nodded at Jim in thanks as he boarded. Bones had begrudginglypatched up the blow to the head Jim had given him. Jim couldn't blame him given how traumatized Medical were by Sam's actions. Christine Chapel had already put in a transfer request. Jim had signed it immediately, promising her she could go wherever she wanted. He hated Sam for that.

His actions clearly confused his brother, who hesitated at the entrance. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you don't deserve to die." Jim said coldly. "Because in another life we might have been friends." He'd seen enough in his mind meld with Ambassador Spock to know as much. "And because Marcus doesn't get to hurt anyone else."

"So you believe me then?" Sam said hopefully.

"Doesn't matter what I believe." Jim shrugged. "Let it go. For the sake of your crew, let it go. You're going to get them all killed if you keep up this vendetta."

"Let it go…I can't just let it go!" Sam hissed.

Jim shook his head sadly. "Then you might as well be handing me back over to Marcus because if you show your face in Federation space again he's going to know I helped you." And more importantly, that Jim's crew had. "And if that happens, if you endanger my crew ever again, I will personally hunt you down and show you exactly what Kodos taught me."

Sam flinched at Kodos' name. "Jim, I didn't want to to be like this. I'm-"

"Don't you dare apologize to me." Jim snarled. "Get off my ship and stay the hell out of my life."

Sam nodded briskly, finally getting the message that Jim was skirting the edge of violence. He turned and boarded the shuttle and Jim hoped to god he'd never see him again.

His anger shifted to something closer to grief when Tommy made the final step to board. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then turned away.

"Tommy." Jim called after him. Tommy looked back hopefully and Jim swallowed. "Take care of yourself."

Tommy nodded, tears on his cheeks. "You too."

Jim closed the shuttle door behind him and triggered the launch sequence.

On one side of the ship, fifteen prisoners were jettisoned into space.

On the other, Admiral Pike's shuttle began it's trip back to Earth.

Only one reached it's destination.

* * *

McCoy made his way across the bar and Jim fought the urge to bang his head against the counter. Around him, the rest of his command crew had adopted expressions of varying degrees of sheepishness. Apparently it _was_ too much for a starship captain to get a drink in peace. The three days following Sam's escape had been one long exercise in frustration as he'd officially overseen the investigation. Marcus had made no comment which was clear indication of his pleasure, and the official channels of investigation had opened and closed quickly. Finally free of the reports, Jim had wanted nothing more than to get absolutely obliterated. His crew, however, seemed to have other opinions.

"Bones." Jim greeted, lacking his usual enthusiasm and knowing his friend wouldn't care. He and Bones had gotten disgustingly drunk together enough times to recognize the kind of drinking mood they were in.

Today Jim was in angry drinking mode.

"Jim." McCoy nodded, ordering himself a shot of brandy and putting it on Jim's tab with a challenging raise of his eyebrow. Since he'd spent several days patching Jim up over the last few weeks, Jim probably owed him more than a few cheap shots of alcohol.

"Well I think that makes half the ship now." Jim jerked his head towards the rest of his gathered crew. "Uhura wants to pick my brains about the dialects spoken on Qo'noS. Scotty apparently has some urgent schematics that need my attention right this very minute. Sulu…I've forgotten what Sulu wanted." Jim frowned.

"To discuss foil maintenance." Sulu said without a hint of shame for having established such a poor cover story.

"Right." Jim flicked his fingers. "Chekov shouldn't even be here but it's Risa and I don't think they actually have a legal drinking age." Jim had still vetoed alcohol of the kid because apparently he was that much of a hypocrite. "And Spock has decided that now is the perfect time to discuss chess strategy." The resounding cringes that traveled through his crew failed to trigger a reaction from Spock who merely looked serenely around and somehow managed not to look out of place in the decidedly shady establishment Jim had tried to hide in. McCoy however snorted, clearly enjoying Jim's irritation. "So what's your excuse?" Jim asked the doctor.

McCoy sat down. 'My best friend's a goddamn moron and drives me to drink."

In an instant, Jim's irritation vanished and he laughed. Bones' grouchiness never failed to please him and it also reminded him that irritability was best left to the professionals.

He looked at his crew and sighed. They'd all meant well, but he'd not had a minute's peace since being released to his quarters and it was clear they had no idea how to handle him when they weren't working.

To be fair, Jim wasn't all that sure either. "Am I being an asshole?" He asked them.

"No more so than usual." Uhura shrugged.

Jim chuckled again. "Yeah. Okay." He turned to the waitress behind the bar and put in an order. A few minutes later a large pitcher of lurid green liquid was set down at the table they surrounded. "If we're going to do this." Jim informed them, smirking at the wide eyed looks of alarm that he was met with. "We do it properly. Grab a glass and kiss tonight goodbye." A hopeful face looked up at him. "Yes Chekov, you too." The kid grabbed a glass before Jim could change his mind. Jim just had to remind himself that by the time he was Chekov's age he'd been drinking solidly for several years. "Hangovers will not be an excuse for missing your shift and anyone who throws up on me has to help Bones alphabetize bacteria samples."

With his warning ringing a challenge in his highly competitive crew, Jim sat back and watched the carnage unfold.

He had just the one shot himself, but within twenty five minutes he, Spock and Bones were the only ones close to being sober.

Under Spock's disapproving frown, Jim hustled them together and had them beamed back aboard, his mission accomplished. He'd feel guilty about it in the morning when they stumbled onto the bridge, but a hungover crew who thought they'd won him over was better than the inevitable damage Jim would do when he finally got tired of being treated like he was fragile.

Spock hadn't looked all that impressed when he'd escorted them all back to the ship, and even McCoy had sighed in resignation. "Don't do anything stupid." He'd warned Jim. "I'm serious."

Jim had merely jerked his head in the direction of the curvaceous woman who'd been flirtatiously smiling at him all night. That had won him an eye roll and the order that he _use protection, damnit._

But when he'd eventually been left alone, the desire to seek out company, even for sex, seemed less appealing than ordering another drink.

And when it arrived, Jim simply held the glass and looked at it for the best part of twenty minutes.

He'd been so absorbed he'd not noticed Pike arrive beside him. "I saw your crew." He said with a wry grin. "Didn't you get new orders today?"

Pike was due to leave on his own transport from Risa the following morning. "Yeah. Crew get recalled at 1300 and we move out for Nibiru at 1830."

"Geological survey?" Pike asked.

"Milk run." Kirk agreed. "Marcus probably wants us creating as little trouble as possible for a while."

"So keep your nose clean." Pike advised. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Kirk smirked, kicking over a stool for the Admiral.

"Uh huh. So that's why you're here drinking by yourself when you have plenty of people who'd gladly keep you company. I know your MO, Jim." Pike took the seat next to him and propped his cane against the bar. "Get wasted and fuck a pretty girl."

"Or guy." Jim shrugged. "I'm an equal opportunities slut."

"Right." Pike said dryly. "Better than getting your ass kicked in a bar fight at least."

"I figured I'd go easy on Bones. His blood pressure isn't looking great." Jim said flippantly. Truth was he was itching for a fight. It was why he'd sent his crew away. They deserved better. He couldn't go getting into a brawl on liberty, but he was self aware enough to know that when he really craved violence, if he was pressed for options he'd take a verbal battle in lieu of something more physical. When he got like this he could be nasty and malicious, and no one knew that better than the man beside him.

"Lucky for you, my blood pressure is fine." Pike ordered them both a fresh shot.

Jim accepted the glass and raised it in thanks. "No offense but you weren't really the kind of pretty I had in mind."

"I'm hurt, kid." Pike downed his shot like an old pro. "I thought we had a connection."

Jim laughed. He couldn't help it. It felt good. Pike recognized the look on his face and his smile became something softer.

"I'm sorry, Jim." He said, not insulting Kirk's intelligence by trying to ease them in to the conversation. "I know I said that in the past, but I'll never be able to say it enough." Pike's eyes were immeasurably sad and Jim was struck with the sharp pang of longing that he always felt whenever he allowed himself to wonder what his life might have been like. Maybe he'd still be captain, maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he'd never have saved Earth. One of his deepest, most shameful secrets was that sometimes even that thought didn't stop him wanting it.

"Wasn't your fault then." Jim swallowed, looking into the bottom of his glass. "Isn't your fault now."

"You haven't always thought that way." Pike said calmly, drawing Jim back to a time shortly after Tarsus. Pike had visited him in hospital wearing the same look Jim had seen on parents whose children had been slaughtered right in front of them. Looking at Jim had clearly been agony for him, and Jim had felt so ashamed, so angry, that merely the thought of someone actually caring for him despite what he'd become had almost been worse than the journey that had taken him there.

"Yeah well, I was a little shit back then." Jim admitted uncomfortably. That was probably an understatement. Actually, it definitely was.

"Still are." Pike nudged him with his shoulder, pulling a tired smile from Jim that he didn't begrudge.

"When…when we get back. I'll tell you. Everything. If you want."

He could tell Pike wanted to reach out and touch him from the way his fingers clenched. But he didn't, and Jim was glad.

"You don't have to tell me a damn thing if you don't want to. It's not…it won't change anything."

"Might."

Pike did touch him then and Jim forced himself not to recoil. He was far twitchier than he had been in years and angry with himself for being so childish.

"Listen to me, Jim." Pike made Jim look at him. He did, reluctantly, afraid what he would see and surprised by the absolute certainty in his expression. "Nothing you could possibly do would ever make me turn my back on you. I left you once, Jim. I'm not making that mistake again. God knows you drive me absolutely crazy and I'm pretty sure McCoy and I are gonna start a race towards our first worry related heart attack, but I'm reliably informed that's how all parents feel about their kids."

Jim had never been much of a crier. As a child it hadn't won him any extra attention from his mom and later in life he'd learned that crying didn't stop people from hurting him. Hell, he was fairly convinced Frank had actually enjoyed it more when he cried. As a rule, Jim wasn't prone to floods of tears or any great dramatic show of emotion, despite what Spock might think.

Which failed to explain why he found it so damn hard to bite back on the tears that welled under Pike's warm, steady gaze. He swallowed roughly and nodded, the closest he could get to voicing what he felt – gratefulness, hopefulness, love.

Then he flagged down their waitress and ordered another round of drinks. They sat in silence until they arrived. Then Jim said, "When we get back from Nibiru. I'll tell you everything. All of it." Then he'd see if Pike still felt the same way.

"There's no rush, kiddo." Pike took his drink and smiled. "I'm not going anywhere." He swallowed the drink and stood, clasping Jim's shoulder and grabbing his cane. "Old habits die hard, I get that. I'll make your excuses and see you in the morning."

Jim swallowed gratefully as Pike left him in the peace he'd been craving.

He finished his drink and decided to go home. Like he told Sam: he wasn't thirteen years old any more. Time to make some new habits.


End file.
